Your Demons are Mine
by Sereneffect
Summary: Shepard is holding something back, something from her past, and Garrus is concerned. What could it possibly be that she can't tell him? As Shepard slowly pulls further and further away, Garrus can't help but feel that he needs to stop her pain. Rated for language, violence and mature situations. Dark. FemShepxGarrus
1. Chapter 1

**Just an idea I had rattling around in my head, so I hope you like it! Big thanks to greenyoda987, as usual, for being awesome.**

**This is established Shakarian, part of the way through ME3, on their way to cure the genophage.**

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Shepard sat bolt upright, struggling against the arm protectively draped across her shoulders. Gasping, she half fell out of bed and let the offending limb fall back onto the bed as she stumbled toward her bathroom. Nausea threatened her with every step and finally knocked her to her knees when she reached the small, tiled washroom, leaving her to crawl to the rest of the way. Bile burned up her esophagus and she heaved her stomach's meager contents into the toilet with a groan. Fucking Cerberus… They couldn't just get rid of her demons while they were eradicating every other human bit of her, could they? She let out a shaky breath before retching violently into the toilet again.

"Shep?" a flanging voice grumbled from her bed and she could hear sheets rustling quietly. Damn, of course he'd woken up. She didn't want to talk about this nightmare with him, but she didn't have the heart to stay silent; she knew he would panic and search for her if she didn't answer.

"Here," she moaned, forehead resting against the cool tile on the wall as her stomach protested. Talons clicked across her floor and she glanced over at her turian lover as he came to stand beside her. His eyes ran over her, concern written in the set of his mandibles, and he knelt, hand resting lightly on her back.

"Are you alright?" Garrus asked, searching her face, and she gave him a weak smile though she knew he could see through it. The ritual was so common they probably could have done it without words. His brows lowered slightly and she knew he didn't like what he saw: her face was pale and her hands were trembling as she leaned forward again, her stomach lurching threateningly. She gagged, spat bitter yellow bile from her mouth and grimaced, sitting back on her heels.

"Water?" she mumbled, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. He nodded and left her side to retrieve a bottle of water from the cooler beneath her desk and she rubbed her temples absently. Fucking nightmares… Always the same one, always reliving the same moment. Something cold was pressed to the back of her neck and she sighed contentedly, feeling the cool moisture slide down her spine. She gave her lover an appreciative smile and took the offered bottle, swilling some of its contents around in her mouth before spitting it back out.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

And there was the problem. She cringed, taking a long sip of water to soothe her abused throat. He always wanted to talk about it. _At least I wasn't screaming this time…_ But no, she didn't want to talk about it. She never wanted to talk about it. She would talk about the beacon's visions, or the Collectors, or dying, or even the child and the forest in her most recent dreams, but this… Not this. She shook her head slightly and rested her forehead against his shoulder. She could feel him sigh heavily as his arms circled around her.

"Kai, you know you can tell me anything," he purred, nuzzling the top of her head gently. The short black strands brushed his plates like silk, wrapping him in her scent and he found he loved her hair—strange as it was—more and more every day. She'd always left it short—since before he'd met her, he was sure—and he'd asked her only once why she didn't let it become long, like Miranda's was, but she'd turned to stone and bluntly told him where to shove that idea. So he'd never mentioned it again and—he'd decided—he liked it this way. If only he could get her to actually talk to him…

"I know, Garrus," she mumbled, drawing her legs up under herself and cuddling into his embrace, "This is just… It's something I have to…" Fuck. She knew she should have talked to Chambers about this before the Cerberus crew had been ousted. "It's hard to talk about, okay? It's still… painful."

_Grow up, _part of her brain snapped, _You're a grown woman; that was back in basic. You're a Commander now, hell you're a fucking a Spectre. You've saved the galaxy twice; you're a bonafide bad ass. So stop acting like a child!_

_It's not so simple_, she thought back, relishing the feeling of Garrus's talons running in circles over the exposed skin above the tank top she wore to bed. A contented hum escaped her throat and he nuzzled the side of her neck, nipping lightly.

Garrus exhaled against her skin, surveying her face as she closed her eyes, wondering what his lover was thinking. From the set of her brow and the tension in her jaw, he knew she was deep in thought, but that didn't mean she would tell him. Part of him was frustrated with her determination not to confide in him—insulted, even, that she wouldn't let him help her—but experience had showed that sometimes, Shepard just needed her space. He didn't have to like it, but she would open up to him in due time. Hell, his patience had paid off well enough when he waited for her to acknowledge their chemistry. Maybe it would be true now. _But we don't have that kind of time, _his brain reminded him, _The Reapers could be here any day. _Instinctively, he held her tighter, burying his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling her scent. Maybe if she would just let her guard down, just once…

"I want to be here for you, Kai. You don't have to do everything on your own, you know," he rumbled, licking a trail up to her ear, his breath making her shiver. She knew he was talking about the Alpha Relay; he was still angry that she'd left him to do it on her own, but she stood by her decision. She would never have allowed him to be imprisoned for her actions. Besides, they were together again now, and that was all that mattered.

"I'm used to it," she replied truthfully, tilting her head so he had better access and he growled something, but continued his ministrations on the sensitive flesh of her neck. A light moan slipped out and he drew her into his lap, guiding her legs to either side of his waist.

"I know. But that doesn't mean you have to keep doing it." His talons dragged down her back to dip up under her shirt, sending a shiver down her spine. "I thought I'd been pretty clear about this, but I guess I have to remind you sometimes," he sounded almost indignant, but she could hear the humor behind his voice and met his gaze with hers. "I am serious about you, Kailynn Shepard, and that means being there to help you with your problems. But you have to let me." He trailed his tongue down the hollow of her throat, nipping each of her collarbones so she gasped against him. "So, are you going to talk about it?"

It took her a moment to realize that he was asking her a question and she hastily mumbled something unintelligible, earning a low chuckle from the turian beneath her. He knew she was putty in his hands, knew just how to touch her to make her say yes to anything, and she knew that he knew it, but didn't care. For a moment, she thought on the ridiculousness of having this serious kind of conversation while he was doing those delicious things with his mouth, but it didn't last. He brought his hands to her chest to tease her nipples through the thin cotton of her shirt and effectively banished all thought from her mind. She bit her lip to hold down the moan that threatened to escape her and glared at him through the fringe of her hair, blue meeting blue.

"You… are cheating," she panted, pulling them chest to chest so he had to abandon his efforts. His mandibles twitched in a smirk at the unspoken challenge, but then his expression softened and the playfulness was gone. He stared at her tenderly and she knew that this wasn't going to be easy.

"Kai…" He cupped her cheek in his hand and she leaned into it with a sigh, eyes closing. "Please tell me?"

She blinked at him and huffed out a breath, carefully untangling their limbs and standing, trying to stretch the crick in her back. She hated it when he did this—he was practically begging—and it made her feel terrible to refuse but she wouldn't change her mind. It was too early to have this conversation… How early, she wasn't sure, but it was too early regardless. _Too early in the day and too early in our relationship_ she thought sulkily, padding over the shower enclosure and flipping the water on. She turned slightly and smiled sadly at him over her shoulder, holding out a hand; a silent invitation to join her. Through the growing cloud of steam, she could see that he didn't want to let it go—honestly, that was part of why she loved him, he was so stubborn—but grudgingly took the offered hand and pressed his forehead to hers. A low purr vibrated in his chest and she kissed each of his mandibles lightly as she stripped him of the loose pants he slept in. His hands ghosted over her skin, divesting her of her garments with practiced ease and tugged her under the spray, shielding her from the scalding deluge with his body as she adjusted it to a temperature that suited them both. For a moment, they just stood in the steam, arms lazily wrapped around each other as the water belted down over them, but those moments never lasted and this morning was no different.

"Commander, we are approaching the mass relay to Tuchanka," EDI's voice interrupted over the intercom and the woman clenched her jaw to keep from cursing the AI up and down.

"Thank you, EDI, I'll be down shortly," she replied tightly, turning apologetically back to her lover.

"Of course, Shepard. Jeff requested that I inform you that our ETA is two hours in case…" She paused as if wondering whether she should finish the sentence and Shepard snorted.

"Tell Joker that I appreciate his concern, EDI, but he has better things to worry about, like flying my ship," Shepard cut in, saving her the trouble.

"I will. Logging you out."

Alone in the silence again, Garrus's mandibles twitched into a small grin and she ran her hands over his shoulders, sneaking one up his neck to massage the soft flesh just below his fringe. He let his head fall back and let out a contented purr, arms tightening around her instinctively.

"Two hours, huh?" he finally mumbled, letting his talons drag lightly up and down the curve of her waist and over the swell of her hips suggestively. She let out a lusty laugh and he brought his face down to hers, engaging her in a surprisingly human kiss. His tongue slipped between her lips, brushing over hers teasingly before he pulled back and she whimpered at the loss. He smirked, seeing the flush blooming in her cheeks. Strange as it was, Garrus liked the odd human things about Shepard—the colors she turned for her different emotions, her strange and amazing hair, her soft, supple body—and though he always meant to tell her so, she always stopped him as if she knew, or didn't want to.

She pressed her body flush to his and pulled his head down, hungrily pressing her tongue into his mouth and he tightened his hold on her, relishing the sharp inhale through her nose as his talons made light scratches down her back. They would heal before they were out of the shower and she kept telling him that she didn't mind, that she liked it even.

"Enough time for you?" she goaded him breathlessly, gaze heavy with lust. A growl rumbled from him and his grip tightened possessively.

"We'll just have to find out, won't we?" he drawled, hands exploring her body before coming up to cup her face and steal another breathtaking kiss. His eyes met hers again and she gave him a small nod, almost undetectable if he hadn't been looking for it. Since the beginning, he always waited for her cue to continue, never going too far unless she let him know it was okay; the first time, he had been terrified that he would hurt her or that he was pressuring her, asking more than once if she was sure. He had to suppress every instinct in him that called for her surrender, instead focusing his energies on making sure that she was taken care of. He had never before tried to lead their couplings; each time they had behaved as equals, or at the very least, their intimacies were under her control. While he found nothing wrong with it – hell, she drove him mad under her fingers whenever he submitted to her – there was still a part of him that needed to be in control, that insisted that she submit to him. Thinking that maybe all she needed was someone to hold her, to focus on her, he figure he'd try a new tactic today – he would take charge of her; he'd direct everything this time, focusing all of his attentions and power on her. Maybe she would open up then, if she knew that he would catch her if she let go and let him lead. Maybe if someone took away that control that she so desperately clung to, she would realize she could share her burdens. _No time like the present_, he thought_. _Without hesitating, he buried one hand in her hair, pulling her head back lightly to attack her neck, the other gripping her wrist lightly as he pressed her back against the wall, grinding his emerging erection into her core.

Shepard gasped at the cool tile on her back and almost didn't notice his aggressive, possessive hold on her. Almost. His grip on her hair grew more insistent, forcing her head back and she let out a sound that spoke a mix of confusion, surprise, and a hint of fear. This wasn't the way they did things… His grip around her wrist tightened and she tried to see his face, fear threading its icy tendrils around her heart as its pace sped up.

Garrus felt her pulse quicken and growled against her skin, releasing her wrist to hike her leg over his hip. Damn, maybe this would work after all. "Shepard…"

His body was demanding against hers, and she felt an old, familiar dread settle over her. The hands on her were no long familiar, the body pressed against hers no longer rough, plated, and pleasantly alien. A light tug on her hair made her breathing hitch and she felt panic rise in her chest as her nightmare flew to the front of her mind. She pushed against his shoulders lightly, usually enough of a sign to stop, but either he didn't notice, or didn't sense the shift in her demeanor, and growled a warning as he flexed his hold on her leg. And in that moment, he wasn't Garrus anymore.

_No, no, not here. Not now. Not with him._ But her body was shutting down already and she cursed its traitorous reaction. Her knees buckled and she went limp, forcing her eyes shut and turning her head to one side to avoid the face of the man above her.

"Kai? Kai, what—" Had he gone too far? She had seemed more than willing before, she had instigated it, even. What went wrong?

Fuck. The concern in his voice as he pulled back from her broke down the last barrier she had and she collapsed back against the wall, tears sliding down her face and she sobbed into her knees, arms wrapping around her shins. _Damn it. Fucking damn it._ She could see him kneel in front of her, his knees on either side of her feet and felt his talons brush her cheek lightly. Without meaning to, she flinched back, glancing at him through squinted eyes; the confusion and hurt on his face made her eyes burn and a fresh wave of tears slipped free. What could she say to fix this? How could she explain to him what had happened to her?

"Kai, is this—" His subharmonics trilled out softly, reaching out but not touching her.

"I'm sorry, Garrus," she finally managed, scrambling out of her shower into her cabin, throwing her clothes on haphazardly and bolting for the elevator. _Great job, Shepard. Run at enemy fire head on, but run away from your boyfriend and your problems, _she scolded herself, leaning heavily against the elevator doors once they'd closed. Water dripped down her collar and her clothes stuck to her damp skin, sending a chill through her body. _Fitting,_ she thought bitterly, wrapping her arms around herself as the elevator descended.

Garrus stared at the door after she'd gone, looking lost and confused. What in the hell had gotten into her? She'd never pushed him away like that, not even when they fought, which they did. Sulk and throw things, maybe, but never physically push him away. He couldn't help but think it had something to do with her nightmares—the ones she wouldn't talk about—but he didn't know anything other than that. And she'd never… shut down on him like that—ever, not just when they were… intimate—and that concerned him most. She had just... left her body, almost. His mandibles pulled tight to his face and with a sigh of resignation, he shut off the shower. Alone in her cabin, he felt the crushing sensation that whatever troubled his lover at night as something far deeper than she was letting on.

Spirits, nothing was simple with her.

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**Lemme know what you think, I'm taking any input and ideas for where to go!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay! So to start off with, Wow. I never anticipated this much feedback for this idea, so thank you guys! I was a little worried, but I'm glad everyone likes it so far. =)**

**As usual, greenyoda987 is amazing for helping me edit and dealing with the ten files I send her at a time for editing. Seriously, you're the best.**

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Shepard half threw herself out of the elevator, desperately needing to put as much distance between herself and the fear that threatened to engulf her. She stood up straighter, trying to will some confidence back into her posture, but failed miserably; she'd always been able to keep this under control, never letting it get in the way of duty, and she didn't intend to let that start today. Her body didn't want to cooperate though, the fear and defeat perfectly obvious in her posture: her shoulders slumped under the stripes of her command and a downtrodden expression took up residence on her face. She tried to mold her features into a stoic mask as she stared blankly at her terminal. She felt terrible—not physically, despite the way she'd awakened, but emotionally—and couldn't get Garrus's hurt expression out of her mind. _Why did you have to go and do that to him?_ Deep inside herself, she knew it wasn't anything she had consciously done—her body had just reacted—but it didn't prevent her from feeling like the villain. And she didn't like the feeling. She hadn't done anything wrong. All of this had just happened to her and now it was turning her life upside down. That bothered her; sadness, frustration, and anger made their rounds through her emotions in equal parts, showing on her face briefly before she forced them behind her blank mask as best she could.

"Commander, you have new messages," Traynor chirped and Shepard nodded mutely, not really registering the words. Without touching her terminal, she trudged back toward the war room, earning a confused look from the technical specialist. But the younger woman said nothing, watching humanity's hero drag herself toward her duties with a look like a kicked varren.

Shepard trotted the two steps down to the holo display showing the Crucible's progress, coming up alongside Palaven's new and somewhat reluctant Primarch. He cast her a tired glance and nodded his greeting, folding his arms across his carapace.

"Primarch Victus," she greeted mildly, "I apologize for the delay, but you said you had something you wished to discuss in private. I thought with Urdnot Wrex seeing to Eve, we could discuss your little problem." She leaned forward onto the console, keeping track of the turian leader in her peripherals. She could see the twitch of his nose and then the subtle flare of his mandibles as if something had surprised him, but he turned his gaze away from her and stared at the Crucible's progress. There was a moment of silence and she waited for him to speak, but he seemed to have no intention to do so and she scowled. "Sir, we're en route to Tuchanka. Whatever it is you wanted to talk about, I suggest you tell me now."

"How long has it been going on?" The casualness of the remark caught Shepard off guard and she turned to face him, catching the smug look on the elder turian's face. "Indulge my curiosity, Commander. It's not often that… Actually, scratch that. I've never met a human who smells like a turian, let alone a highly ranked advisor to the Hierarchy," he drawled with a suggestive quirk of his browplates and Shepard guffawed at his bluntness. It took her a few moments to gather her wits, plastering a bemused smile on her face. Of course he knew; if everyone else on her ship did, why not the Primarch of fucking Palaven?

"I believe my personal life and… sexual exploits are not of concern," she finally said acerbically, settling into her hip and crossing her arms, "But your secret mission is. Now I'll ask again, Primarch, what do you need?"

Victus laughed lightly and mimicked her posture. "Vakarian said that you were… what's the word… feisty? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised he wasn't speaking strictly of your work relationship." When Shepard opened her mouth to snap a retort, Victus lifted a hand, "I know, I know, none of my business." He knotted his hands behind his back and Shepard grit her teeth. It wasn't so much that it was none of his business but that she had been called "feisty". Feisty was not badass, feisty was cute. Feisty was what men called a woman who was independent enough to speak out but not to physically resist. Feisty described a dependent, a victim…

She shook her head to dispel the thought before it could fully form and turned her attention back to the self-satisfied Primarch, eyes narrowing slightly. Bastard was trying to get a rise out of her, test her like a new recruit. This was not the morning to test her patience; she had already felt broken and exposed this morning, and that alone would have been more than enough to earn her ire, but bringing her personal life into it… After the events of the morning, bringing up Garrus felt like he was rubbing salt into the wound. She didn't like it.

"You're right, it's not," she stated, "Now, unless you're going to share your top secret mission with me, I have a crew to prepare for our trip to Tuchanka to cure the genophage." Summoning all the courage she could muster, she made as if to leave, shaping her expression into one of annoyance. As she turned her back to the turian general, a vice-like grip encircled her bicep and she had to suppress every fight or flight response in her, demanding that she bury her fist in his face and run. _Get it together. It was one nightmare and one terrible, awkward morning. Stop acting like it all happened yesterday,_ she scolded herself, turning to face the turian holding her arm, eyebrow raised in a silent question.

"Please understand, Commander, this is very sensitive. As I mentioned, one of our ships has gone missing." Victus looked slightly uncomfortable as he released her and she crossed her arms, effectively closing herself off. It was the only thing she could put between them but it would have to be enough.

"Sounds simple enough."

"Well, 'missing' isn't the right word. It crashed, really. I didn't feel… comfortable saying so in front of your krogan friend since it went down on Tuchanka. Now the men are pinned by an advanced guard of Reaper forces scouting the planet."

Well damn. Shepard's brow furrowed slightly and she thought carefully over her next words. "Primarch Victus, we are on our way to carry out a very sensitive, very controversial mission on the homeworld of a species that is not a fan of your own, and for good reason." She paused and her gaze hardened. "You'd better have a damn good reason for putting this all in jeopardy by sending a secret platoon to Tuchanka while I'm trying to save Palaven."

"It's classified." The words were no sooner out of his mouth when he realized his mistake. Shepard's jaw tightened and she looked ready to kill him where he stood, Primarch or no. Those two words were a phrase that Shepard loathed more than most things in the galaxy, and the look on her face would have sent a lesser man cowering. "Regardless, it is vital that they complete their mission. It is a matter of galactic peace," Victus added quickly in an effort to avoid the tirade of vitriol that he could see building in the small human commander. Her ire abated only slightly, but her shoulders relaxed. Galactic peace… That always worked on her. Shepard muttered something the turian Primarch's translator didn't pick up, but the look on her face told him that it was not kind.

"I'll do what I can, but if your little stunt jeopardizes the treaty with the krogan, you can explain to Admirals Hackett and Anderson why Palaven is burning and Earth will not be receiving turian aid," she growled, stalking out of the war room before he could answer. She didn't like being lied to, she didn't like being deceived, and she definitely didn't like red tape. Scratch that, she hated red tape—loathed it, even—almost as much as Garrus. She shut her eyes, trying to stifle the headache that threatened to crop up at the thought of his name. Garrus… She'd have to deal with that can of worms eventually. Eventually… not now.

Victus watched her leave, mandibles slack. Well then… Maybe feisty wasn't the right word. Terrifying was probably a bit better. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the console he'd claimed as his workstation. Something besides the mission on Tuchanka was bothering her—she didn't need subharmonics to give that away—but it wasn't his job to pry. Vakarian however… Victus cued up his omnitool.

"Vakarian. Shepard looks ready to take on every Reaper, one on one, out of spite. Since she's your mate, I'm going to say that this is your problem," he said quickly, not even looking at the display, "Fix it." He cut the connection and went back to his station. Lover's quarrels were not something he felt like dealing with, but Shepard just so happened to be the one in charge of saving the galaxy; that meant that it affected everyone. And it was Vakarian's job to fix it. Victus let out a scoff, earning several glances from crew members around the room; he definitely didn't envy Garrus. That conversation would be anything but fun.

Garrus stared at his omnitool, though the message had long since ended, with a mix of confusion and frustration. How did Victus know? A quick shake of his head reoriented his thoughts back to the important part of the message. He didn't need someone else to tell him that Shepard was upset. _Got that on my own when she started crying while we were fooling around in her shower, thanks._ But he didn't know how to fix it, and that thought had clawed at him since Shepard had run from her cabin. His normal response would have been that she needed to blow off some steam but…Well, that hadn't gone as well as he would have anticipated. With a growl, he leaned over the worktable where his rifle lay, disassembled for upgrades and cleaning, and let his eyes slide closed. Why couldn't she just tell him what was bothering her? Didn't she want him to help?

Did she?

The way she dodged around his questions, refused to give him any sort of answer, and diverted his attention whenever he asked about that particular nightmare made him think that maybe she didn't. Did she not trust him? Everything they had been through… the war with Saren and the geth, working with Cerberus, the battle against the Collectors… Had that not been enough to prove how much she could trust him? He pushed back from the table and paced across the battery, mind churning. He knew how he felt about Shepard— he loved her, had for a long time—but no matter how often he felt that he told her, she didn't seem to realize that it wasn't merely physical; he wanted to be there for her in every aspect of her life. And yet she pushed him away whenever her hardened Commander-shell threatened to crack and fall away, like he was no more than another crewman. Like he wasn't the one sharing her bed, holding her every night when she trembled through her nightmares, comforting her when the stress became too much. So why in the name of the Spirits wouldn't she let him comfort her now?!

Garrus dragged his talons down his face with an exasperated sigh and went back to his console. Maybe calibrations would clear his head…

* * *

Shepard drummed her fingers against the back of Joker's chair, earning a less-that-pleased look from her pilot; she felt twitchy, her anxiety from the morning finally catching up to her, making her feel trapped with no way to redirect her agitation. She focused her attention on the stars flying past them, trying to suppress the irritation that was steadily building in her. But while her eyes were locked on the galaxy flying by, her mind was everywhere else. Joker cleared his throat, drawing her out of her thoughts and back to the cockpit.

"You know, Shepard, the _Normandy_ won't fly any faster just because you glare hard enough," he quipped, trying to banish the look of murder from her face, but she didn't laugh. Was she mad that he had asked EDI to interrupt her… morning with Garrus? He hoped not, she had a habit of yelling when she was angry and the Commander yelling usually meant someone was going to regret being born. Of course, they usually deserved it, but that didn't mean he wasn't worried. From what EDI was overhearing, she had been like this all morning and he found that the old saying held true exceptionally well on the _Normandy_: if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

"Yeah… Yeah, you're right Joker." She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, drawing Joker's attention to the dark circles there. Well, he couldn't possibly make it worse…

"No offense Commander, but you look like shit. You feeling okay?"

Shepard laughed bitterly and he winced; the sound was sharp and mirthless, almost as if she'd never really been happy, and it scared him a little bit. She'd never sounded like that… not even after dealing with the Illusive Man, or even after Virmire.

"Fine. Never better," she replied tightly, turning to go, "Let me know when we're on approach to Tuchanka." She was gone before Joker could say any more and he sighed, mildly relieved to have dodged whatever punishment she seemed to be preparing to dish out on some unsuspecting fool. He'd hate to be that poor bastard…

* * *

James glanced toward the elevator as he finished reassembling his assault rifle, eyes finding the very attractive and very welcome form of Commander Shepard. The expression on her face, however, told him that she was not in the mood. Like that had ever stopped him before.

"Hey, Lola!" he called out, grinning when her body jerked and she glared at him. She kept saying she hated the nickname—that it sounded like a stripper, or an escort, or something—but never really made him stop. So he didn't. She started over and he shamelessly looked her up and down, noting that her eyes sparkled with promised wrath as he did it, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about it. He'd teased her that cutting her hair like that and wearing her officers fatigues made her look like a teenage boy and she'd snapped back good, that was what she wanted. But that didn't mean she wasn't cute.

"Vega, I need to punch something. You wanna dance?" she said as she drew closer, hands on her hips. Her hair was still damp, he could see, and her face bare of makeup; she never wore any, but he always noticed.

"Am I being volunteered for punching bag duty, now?" he teased, but she just grinned wolfishly.

"Yup." She was already moving into the center of the cargo bay, sliding off the shirt of her uniform before he registered her response and moved to join her. The muscles in her arms flexed under the skin exposed by her plain undershirt and Vega blatantly watched her loosen up.

"Alright, Lola, but I'm not going easy on you this time," he replied, mimicking her stretches.

She let out a bark of laughter. "You were going easy on me? If I remember correctly, you were the one who ended up on your ass, Lieutenant." She bounced on the balls of her feet and shook out her arms. "Now are you going to talk or are we going to get started?"

He fell into a ready stance, eyes locked on her as she gave her neck one last roll before sliding into her own. Her arms were hanging loose, finger half curled into fists but he'd learned the last time: she was more than ready to take him on.

"Careful what you wish for."

He surged forward, testing her guard before dropping back and she took a quick step to the side, bringing her arms up defensively. They stalked each other like prey, moving in a careful circle before she dove at him, throwing blow after blow that he blocked, moving steadily with her until she backpedalled away. Instead of staying where he was, he countered, following her retreat with blows of his own before breaking off and taking a long breath. They eyed each other again, but neither made a move to attack. Waiting. Shepard ran out of patience first, jumping toward him with a grunt and throwing a leg out to sweep his legs, but he caught her ankle, pinning it to the floor and threw out a kick toward her head. She dropped so the her shoulder blades touched the floor, watching his foot fly past her face and rolled, jerking her leg free and popping back to her feet a short distance away. Vega dashed some sweat from his brow and smirked. She was light and quick—agile and graceful, if he was being honest—and it made her hard to pin. But he was bigger and stronger. She took a few steps backward, panting lightly, but kept her arms up, shifting her weight between her feet.

"Tired, Lola?" he taunted, earning a scathing look.

"In your dreams, Vega," she retorted, but there was no strength behind it. She knew she looked like hell, looked like she hadn't slept in days—she really hadn't—but that didn't mean people needed to keep pointing it out. Why couldn't anyone just let her deal with things on her own anymore? She just wanted some peace. Everything pent up inside her was screaming to get out: all of the anger, frustration, fear, betrayal… She broke out of her thoughts as James dove toward her, faking left and then swinging right. She fell for the fake, dodging straight into a blow to her stomach. The air rushed from her lungs and she staggered, barely ducking another swing at her head. Dammit, he'd landed a hit on her while she was distracted. Her gut ached and she coughed, trying to catch her breath.

"You're getting soft, Lola. All that time up in your cabin with Scars is starting to show." He was joking, of course, but it only reminded Shepard of the morning's events and her expression visibly darkened. For Vega, it was a casual spar, but for Shepard, it was becoming a battle with the maelstrom of conflicting emotions inside of her and he just so happened to be very punchable. Vega grinned, bouncing on his toes just out of her reach and she huffed out a breath, blinking the spots from her eyes.

"Less talk, more action there Vega." She took a step forward and feinted toward his side, ducked down, and surged forward, intent on striking him head on. James managed to get a block between himself and Shepard, tangling his arm in hers and moving to sidestep her. Her balance faltered and she spun to move out of his reach, but he had a hold on her captive wrist, pressing it into her back. _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ she chanted in her head, trying to reach around with her other hand to break his hold on her; she felt the panic start to gather around her consciousness, threatening her clarity. She scrambled to find a pressure point—anything to release is grip—trying to collect what was left of her rational thought, but she was steadily losing control. She swore under her breath—there were too many muscles to get a grip on his tendons—and spread her feet, throwing her weight forward in an effort to break his hold, but Vega was a lot stronger than she. He countered her movement, using his weight to anchor them both, and wrestled for control of her shoulders. His arm curled around her neck in a lock and she tensed, struggling to keep her heart beat under control. Blood roared in her ears and she felt her chest tighten as she struggled, but her movements were severely limited. _Don't panic, don't panic. It's just Vega. Just. Vega._ But it wasn't working and the marine at her back was suddenly a faceless predator, laughing as he held her still, mocking her pitiful attempts to break free. She started to shake, blood draining from her face as a cold sweat broke out on her skin and the hair stood on the back of her neck, finally succumbing to adrenaline and instinct.

"You know, I think—"

She threw her head back, connecting hard with Vega's face and he let go of her with a yell, letting her scramble away.

"Shit! Fucking… Agh, _dios mio…_" James cradled his nose, blood seeping between his fingers, and bent forward slightly.

Shepard stood, trembling, on the other side of the cargo bay, eyes wide and ready to bolt as he continued to swear. James looked up at her and quirked a brow, still holding his broken nose. She didn't look like Commander Shepard anymore; she looked like a scared little girl. He straightened and drew his hand away from his face, blood painting his hand and face a grisly red and she took a step back. Her heart was pounding, drowning out all rational thought in her head as Vega took a few steps forward. His lips were moving, but she didn't hear the words, shaking her head and backing up, stumbling over the crates strewn around the cargo hold. She quickened her frantic retreat, trying desperately to put as much space between herself and the man she saw as her attacker.

_Stay away from me. No. Stay back. Not again, you're not coming near me again._

* * *

"Garrus! Get down the cargo bay, now!"

Liara's shout jolted him out of his haze of technical modifications and drew his attention up toward the intercom. "What—"

"Now, Garrus!"

He didn't argue—something in the asari's voice told him that there wasn't time—and ran for the elevator, willing it to move faster as it descended the single floor to the fourth deck. Hundreds of scenarios ran through his head—none of which eased the worry bubbling in his chest—and he all but ripped the doors open when the elevator finally stopped moving, quickly trying to assess any threat.

Vega was bleeding, but the marine's eyes were locked on Shepard as he took careful steps toward her, but she was backing away from him with obvious fear. Garrus's first instinct was to rip the human's throat out, but Cortez put a restraining hand on his arm, earning a menacing growl. The man gave him a "don't even start" look and jerked his thumb at the scene unfolding.

"They were sparring and she just lost it. I didn't see what happened, but she looks pretty shaken up." The shuttle pilot cast a wary glance over his shoulder. "I asked Dr. T'Soni to get you down here to see what you can do for the Commander. She doesn't even seem to recognize him, but maybe if she knew you were here…?"

Garrus's growl turned to a trill of concern and he turned his attention to his lover as she backed away from their friend.

"Lola, it's me. Just take it easy... Lola!" Vega was getting desperate, but kept his arms raised in a non-threatening way. But Shepard didn't seem to acknowledge what he said, instead falling over a crate as she tried to move backwards. She scrambled back on the floor and Garrus took an instinctive step forward to go to her side.

"Stay away from me!" she cried, voice cracking as she tried to shield herself with one arm. Her words lacked the power and authority of her rank, sounding instead like a terrified plea as James moved as if to help her up. The Commander was gone, leaving a terrified woman in her wake.

"Vega!" Garrus's voice made the man freeze and he closed the distance between them, but cautiously left a few feet of space between himself and Shepard. Their gazes met and she stared back at him, fear making her eyes wide like she was scared he would hit her. He'd never seen her look so afraid and it broke his heart. _Spirits, why won't you tell me what's going on?_ He tentatively knelt and held out a hand. "Kai, it's me. It's Garrus. Remember?" She blinked at him and a low keen built in his chest. "Please, Kai. We're your friends. No one is going to hurt you." He inched forward and, when she didn't retreat, took a long, steadying breath.

Shepard's gaze flicked between the two men trying to talk to her, fear thrumming in her veins and tried to look for an escape but found none. The human had already proven he was stronger by far, so she wouldn't be able to fight him off. The turian… Well, the fact that he was bigger than the human made that option even less likely. Her skull gave off a dull ache where she'd broken the man's nose on it, but she barely felt it, her body swimming in adrenaline. Maybe she could run past them—she was small and pretty quick—if she made it by, she could make a break for it and—

"Kai."

The sound of her name froze her thoughts and she found herself staring into the turian's eyes as he spoke to her. What he said was irrelevant, but the way he was looking at her… It sparked something in the back of her mind; he was gazing at her with such love and compassion and it made her wonder why he would look at her like that, why…

"Garrus," she finally whispered, understanding slowly beginning to return to her; she relaxed slightly, soothed by his gentle stance, and tentatively took his offered hand. His mandibles twitched into what she realized was a smile and he gave her hand a light squeeze.

Garrus felt relief flood over him and he scooted closer, gently touching her arm with his other hand. When she didn't bolt—she'd watched his hand almost fearfully, but she didn't run—he carefully lifted her to her feet and stood at a respectful distance. Whatever this was, whatever had happened, he didn't want to make it worse by alarming her with his close proximity. "Kai, why don't we go up to the medical bay? Doctor—"

"No, no doctors," she immediately took a step back, eyes wide and Garrus held up his hands. He could feel Vega's eyes burning into the back of his neck, but focused on the woman in front of him, the woman he loved. Each fearful glance felt like a knife driving deeper and deeper into his chest and he wanted nothing more than wrap her in his arms and make everything right.

"Alright, alright. No doctors. But how about we go talk to Karin?" he asked, trying another tactic. If she didn't recognize him—she didn't seem to—then maybe he could trick her into going to Dr. Chakwas. It was sneaky and he hated it, but even more than that, he hated the idea that she might hurt herself. Shepard eyed him warily but nodded, giving him a wide berth as she moved past him. In the elevator, she plastered herself to a corner, letting neither Garrus nor Vega out of her sight and Garrus deflated slightly at the look in her eye: like a caged animal. James remained silent, giving the Commander as much room as he could and exiting the elevator first when it stopped, finally piecing together that his presence was not helping. Careful to give her some space, Garrus lead her toward the medical bay, Dr. Chakwas waiting just inside with her worry written on her face. Something in the doctor's gaze made Garrus want to ask what she knew—it was clear she knew something he didn't—but the worry he saw etched into her face had him thinking better of it. Her eyes were moving rapidly over the Commander's form, taking in Shepard's posture and expression, and she didn't seem to like what she saw. Dr. Chakwas managed a small, sympathetic smile as she guided Shepard into the medical bay but said nothing. Garrus made as if to stop her—to demand answers—but before he could the doors slid closed, leaving him alone on the outside and a mournful keen escaped his chest.

_How did this happen? What could possibly explain—_

"Hey, Scars, what's wrong with Lola?" Vega's voice cut in to his thoughts and Garrus felt like a supernova had formed in his chest. He whirled on the human, growl tearing from his throat and pointed an accusing finger at his blood-stained face.

"You tell me, Vega, since she was with you when this happened!" His voice echoed in the Crew Deck as he shouted, but he didn't care. Shepard was in the med bay, didn't trust him, and he wanted to know why. What had caused the change in her? What could have set her off so quickly? In the back of his mind, he knew it was related to what had happened in her shower, but his body wanted someone to blame, and the marine in front of him was the best scapegoat he could find. "What did you do?!"

"Nothing!" James defended, "She came down to the cargo hold looking ready to kill someone and asked if I'd spar with her." He looked away from Garrus's seething form and rubbed the back of his neck. "Everything seemed normal, I thought. I'd almost pinned her and then she just lost it, head-butted my face and ran like she was scared of me. She could have just tapped out like normal, but…" When he looked back to Garrus, it was clear he was shaken up too—not as badly, but what had just transpired had clearly unnerved him—and the turian took a small step back in acquiescence. "I don't know what happened, I swear." He glanced over toward the viewing window into the med bay and Garrus's gaze followed his in time to see the privacy shade slide closed. "You think she'll be alright?"

Garrus desperately wanted to say yes, desperately wanted to laugh and say that nothing could stop Shepard, but the empty look in her eye, the fear and mistrust that defined her posture, stilled the reassurances on his tongue. He had no idea what could be wrong with Shepard, and it scared him. He liked problems he could shoot—they both did, he and Shepard—but this… This wasn't a problem that could be killed with bullets. In her cabin, she had shut down and pushed him away but now… She looked terrified and wary. What could he possibly do to fix this? What could anyone do to fix this?

"I don't know."

* * *

**A warning, this will get worse before it gets better, but this is Garrus and Shepard we're talking about. They can't be anything but wonderful.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Promise not to hate me, this chapter gets a little dark.**

**Mega thanks to greenyoda987, as usual. I'm glad you understand what I mean, even when I don't.**

* * *

Garrus didn't dare leave the mess hall, sitting silently at the communal table with his eyes fixed on the angry red lock of the med bay. Confusion and fear permeated every fiber of his being and he couldn't shake Shepard's empty look from his mind. Where had that come from? He knew—he _knew—_it had something to do with her nightmares. Why hadn't he pushed her harder to tell him? _When has she ever done anything she didn't want to?_ Damn her stubbornness… He forced his eyes shut, feeling his retinas start to protest after staring at the door for so long, and laid his forehead on the tabletop. How could he help her if he didn't even know what was wrong? What could be so wrong that she wouldn't tell him? The questions flooded his brain, leaving his thoughts swimming in doubt, and a mournful trill escaped him. This was his mate, and there was nothing he could do…

"Garrus?"

Chakwas's quiet voice made him jump; his knees slammed into the table and a startled yelp escaped him. She gave him an apologetic look and he rose slowly, careful of his spurs and now-aching knees. A glance told him that the med bay was locked again and the privacy shades still drawn; so why was the doctor out here?

"Shepard is fine," Doctor Chakwas said, anticipating his question and falling tiredly into the seat across from the one he'd occupied previously. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms and Garrus waited for her to continue, every nerve in his body burning to see Shepard. The doctor gestured for him to sit again and he thought about refusing, but the exhaustion on her face told him that arguing would be cruel. "How much do you know of the Commander's service record?"

"That she grew up on the colony out on Mindoir until it was attacked. When the Alliance finally came to offer relief to the survivors, she decided she would enlist when she was of age, and she did." Why was the doctor asking him this? But she was nodding, so he continued, "Before she joined N7, her squad was on Akuze investigating the colony after it went silent. Thresher maws attacked them in the middle of the night and slaughtered her squad; she was the only one left."

"Except Corporal Toombs."

"Right." Garrus paused and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, "Karin, what does this have to do with what happened today?"

The doctor sighed heavily and rubbed her temples. "As you can guess, both of those events were very traumatic, both physically and psychologically. More troubling is that these events, along with other… issues, have made her very psychologically fragile. The beacon on Eden Prime, her resurrection… Those did not help." She let her head fall back and continued, voice strained, "I know she probably wouldn't want me to tell you this – not to mention I'd have my license revoked if the Brass ever found out – but, Garrus, I don't know what else to do. I'm worried about her; she's not getting any better. And I believe you have a right to know, in your position," her eyes met his and she gave him a pointed look. _What does our relationship have to do with this…?_ "Garrus, you need to understand what we are dealing with, so maybe you can help… or at least, so you don't accidentally make it worse." Garrus stared at her, eyes wide, waiting, as she tried to compose herself.

* * *

Shepard wrapped her arms around her shins, burying her face in her knees. Tears burned in her eyes but she refused to cry. _Don't cry, don't be a bitch. _Dr. Chakwas had been patient in calming her down, speaking quietly and reassuring her that she was safe. It was embarrassing, to be talked to like a child, yet she had been consumed by such blind terror…

She shook her head and sighed. She'd have to apologize to Vega for his face. Damn it, she hated apologizing. _It's your own fault for asking him to spar._ Well, that was true. She slowly stretched her legs out in front of her on the bed, letting her hands fall to the sheets. Pensively, she clenched them between her fingers, feeling the pleasant scratch of worn cotton against her skin. The familiar stab of terror and pain struck her, but she took a deep breath. _Karin said I needed to work though this, that I needed to move on. _She briefly thought it over, counting the years since basic…had it really been over ten years? _That long… _But even with the barriers she'd built since then, she couldn't seem to ever get over it… How could it be that easy? Everything she knew about herself had changed in an instant. She wasn't even sure she remembered who she had been before… She exhaled and let her head hang, tucking her chin toward her chest.

* * *

_She'd walked through the base with a cool confidence, putting a slight sway in her hips as she headed back toward the women's bunks. Her hair had been long then, hanging in a ponytail that brushed the space between her shoulder blades, and she'd smudged some make up around her eyes. In truth, she liked the appreciative looks from the men, the jealous glares from the other women. It felt nice to be wanted, to be noticed at last. A small smile pulled at her lip as she strolled through the otherwise empty corridors. Joining the Alliance Navy had been better than an orphan could have hoped for._

_She rounded the corner, arms swinging with her hips and ran into a solid body, nearly falling if not for the arm that wrapped around her torso. She scanned the face of the soldier now holding her and her brow furrowed slightly. She didn't recognize him, but that didn't really mean anything; she barely knew the faces of her unit, let alone the rest of the fresh recruits._

"_Um, thanks," she finally said, blushing and moving to push away from him, but his grip didn't loosen. Her stare hardened and she scowled, but the man only smirked._

"_Can't help but notice you, walking around the way you do," the unnamed soldier said quietly, eyes sparkling. Shepard raised a brow and made another attempt to escape—the look in his eye was not one she wanted to find out the meaning of—but she was trapped. _Damn being so small. _She'd hoped military training would put some muscle on her body, but that was proving to be a near impossible task._

"_Ok… Well, thanks for the… compliment but I really should—"_

"_But we're just talking." Every word coming out of his mouth was putting her on edge and her heart began to slowly speed up. This was more than talking, that much was clear, but she wasn't about to fight someone twice her size. When she spoke, she chose her words carefully._

"_Then you won't mind if I excuse myself from our conversation? I have to report back to my CO." It wasn't a complete lie, but he didn't need to know that. Mustering all the strength in her body, she gave him a rough shove and he staggered back a step, enough to let Shepard move away from him and start back the way she had come. _Don't run, just act like nothing's wrong. _A sharp tug on her shoulder spun her around and she came face to face with the soldier again. She tried to glare threateningly but he only smiled, and it was not a reassuring smile._

"_That would be awfully rude sweetheart. Why don't we go talk somewhere private?"_

_Every part of her screamed no, but he already had a vice-like grip on her arm and had towed her back toward a side room. The door hissed open and he pushed her in ahead of him, slapping the light control as the door locked them in. She whirled on him, expression promising murder._

"_What the hell is your problem?" she snapped, taking a defensive step back. She couldn't handle him in a fight, but she'd been told that she had a way with words. Maybe she could talk her way out of this. Whatever this was._

"_My problem is a hot piece of ass parading around like she owns the place." He advanced a few steps toward her and she backed up, not liking the predatory gleam in his eyes. "And I'm not the only one."_

_What—_

_She felt something at her back and spun, facing another unknown man in uniform. Fuck. Her heart kick-started, threatening to pound out of her chest and she held up her hands. "Look, this is a mistake. I'll just go and we can forget this ever—"_

"_I don't think so," the new man drawled, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Shepard turned so the wall was at her back and tried to keep an eye on both of them. She didn't like being outnumbered, and _definitely_ didn't like being cornered.  
_

"_I'm warning you, let me out of here or—"_

"_Or what, kitten?" She scowled and the man who had dragged her in laughed. "You're not so much."_

_Shepard froze, feeling like ice water had been injected into her veins. _You're not so much. _She felt like the floor had been pulled out from under her. After Mindoir, living two years in limbo before the Alliance would take her, that statement made her feel like a child again. Nothing. She was nothing. What good could a nobody from a backwater colony do for the Alliance? Her arms fell back to her sides slowly and both men laughed, causing her to lower her gaze to the floor._

"_That insecure, Private?" the second man asked, tracing a hand up her arm, and she flinched away. With a growl, he grabbed a handful of her ponytail and pulled, jerking her head back. She winced and reached for his arm, but her other captor grabbed her wrists. "Ah ah, you've got to follow our orders now, since you're _so _good at that. Right, Private?" When she remained silent, he swung, the back of his hand striking her cheek hard. "Right, Private?"_

_She grit her teeth and took a shaky breath through her nose. "Touch me again and I'll scream."_

_This earned another merciless laugh and her eyes flashed. Weren't they afraid of being caught? She opened her mouth, but a rough palm wrapped around the lower part of her face and she struggled, causing both men to hold her tighter._

"_Now now, none of that," the one holding her wrists chided, roughly maneuvering her so she was sandwiched between the two men. She thrashed against them, but made no progress in escaping. "Just play nice, kitten, and you'll be fine."_

_The threat underlining his voice made her tense. Fuck. She knew where this was going, knew exactly what could happen to her. She'd heard stories… Reports lost, demotions for women who complained, ridicule… Damn it, she'd joined the Alliance to do something good, to make something of herself, not… Not this._

* * *

"Wait… Doctor," Garrus interrupted, an uneasy feeling settling into his gut, "Shepard wouldn't… Why didn't she fight them off?" Shepard was a capable soldier. Fighting off two men didn't seem like something that she couldn't handle.

Dr. Chakwas looked up from the spot on the table she'd been staring at, meeting his eyes for the first time. It was difficult to think about Shepard's secret, even harder still to reveal it to someone else, even someone the Commander trusted implicitly. Garrus's face showed no disgust, no anger, only confusion and she laced her fingers together, setting her joined hands on the table.

"She was barely an adult by human standards. Her entire family and most of her colony had been wiped out only a few years before. Whether she was aware of it or not, she was exceptionally vulnerable—both physically and mentally—and others took notice of it; in some cases, took advantage of it. She sought approval from anyone who would give it – I think she was simply trying to find someplace to fit in since her family was killed – and her attitude earned her a bit of attention." She looked back down at the table. "These men…they forced themselves on her against her will."

"They… What?" Garrus stared at her blankly, trying to piece this information together in his head. How could they… Surely there were safeguards against this? Turian women would close themselves off from unwanted contact; if they were unwilling, then that was the end of it. Surely there must have been… As if on cue, he remembered the softness of Shepard's body, the smoothness and fragility of her, and felt his chest tighten. A heavy sense of dread settled over him and he felt like he might be ill. "Dr. Chakwas, please don't tell me that – " he couldn't finish the sentence and his subharmonics began to warble with horror.

"I'm afraid so. Unfortunate as it is, it is far too common a situation for military women." She wouldn't meet his eyes, staring at her fingers as she wrung her hands. "Garrus, I want you to realize that what I am telling you goes against doctor-patient confidentiality. This isn't something I do lightly; I need you to understand that. I could lose everything for even telling you about this, let alone going into detail. But I thought you should know because if anyone can help her, it's you. Don't make me wrong."

* * *

Shepard carefully loosened her hold on the sheets, trying to restore blood flow to her whitened knuckles as she leaned her head back against the wall. She had been stupid. She never should have let them get her alone, never should have let them get inside her head. She never should have stopped fighting them…

_You can kill yourself over "shoulds" and "woulds" and "ifs" but that doesn't change anything_, the rational part of her brain scolded. And yet it all seemed so… flawed. All of the things that had gone wrong, that she could have done differently…

* * *

_Her screams echoed in her head but didn't reach the world beyond as she struggled against the hands holding her down. Her uniform hung open and she could feel hands touching her, exploring like she were meant to be a lover. But she kept her eyes closed tightly, the side of her face grinding into the ground, trying to imagine that anything else was happening, trying to leave her body._

Like Mindoir. Go somewhere else.

_The hand over her mouth gripped tighter and she could taste sweat from the man's palm on her lips, dragging her back to the present. The arm across her shoulders pressed her harder against the ground, making her wince at what would probably be bruises on her collarbones. She tried to buck the man on top of her off, but he merely laughed, forcing her legs apart with his knees._

"_Just relax, kitten. I'll make sure you like it," he hissed in her ear, making her try to jerk back. His hand reeled back and she braced herself as well as she could. But when the blow came, it still took all of her will to hold down her whimper of pain, her face smashed against the cold concrete._

Just survive. That's what they always tell you to do: survive. Live through this, and deal with the fall out later, just survive. _Desperately, she tried to forget what was happening, tried to be anywhere other than within her own body, but it was all but impossible. She could pretend she was anywhere else, but she couldn't stop feeling: breath on her neck, arms holding her down, knees pinning her legs… Pain shot through her and she tried to arch away, tears pricking her eyes. Every second felt like agony, made worse with every effort she made to struggle; she could hear the soldier on top of her grunt and swear as he used her, but it sounded miles away under the roaring of blood in her ears. A laugh behind her sounded even further off._

"_Is she just as good as she looks?" She felt like she was drowning, and the words were reaching her at the bottom of an ocean._

"_Better." With a final groan, he finished and she thought she would be sick. Her body felt like it was no longer her own, like it was trying to eat itself from the inside. She wanted to curl up and die. "You should try her."_

Please no. _She tried to protest, pulling futilely against the hands on her, but again she was ignored, her cries muffled, forced back into her own mouth. Her body ached and she prayed to whatever being that would listen that they just left her._

"_Don't mind if I do."_

* * *

"Doctor, I can't… I can't hear this," Garrus finally interrupted her, head in his hands. He was shaking, eyes forced shut in an effort to block out the images in his head, but they wouldn't go away: a young Shepard, full of life and unhindered by her command, the faceless men holding her down, the light leaving her eyes, the empty expression he'd seen in her shower. His subharmonics were a mess, his emotions tangling in a forlorn trill, and he couldn't seem to get them under control. It all felt so… wrong. How could this be allowed to happen? Was there really so much wrong with the galaxy that this was common in the human military? He'd seen some horrendous things during his time with C-Sec, but he'd always attributed that to the scum that lived on the Wards. Never had he imagined that military men – honorable men, fighting for the greater good – could do such an abhorrent thing. How could they just force themselves on someone… on her? A low growl started rising in his chest and the images burned themselves into the front of his mind: Shepard struggling, fighting against two larger men, not being able to protect herself, eventually just shutting down… _Shutting down_… His mind flew back to that morning when he'd been more aggressive, pressing her up against the wall. _Spirits,_ he thought, _Was that why she started crying? Did I remind her of…them?_ A sick, disgusted sound trilled from his subharmonics and he had to resist the urge to blast himself out of the airlock. _She thinks I'm a monster._

"Please, just tell me that they were arrested. Tell me that they suffered," he finally said, voice low and shaking, disgust and anger warring in his mind. He couldn't believe that he may have already made this worse – that he might have reminded her of the worst moment in her life. Exactly what Chakwas had wanted to prevent. A shudder wracked his body, knowing that this was in part his fault. He was supposed to make her happy, not make her accidentally relive such a sickening moment when he was trying to be intimate. He wanted more than anything to find the men himself and kill them, slowly and painfully, to make them wish they had never laid eyes on her. No one had the right to touch her without her permission, not Shepard. She was his partner; he was the only one who could touch her… _And now you've gone and touched without her permission._ He scrunched his eyes at the wave of nausea that threatened to engulf him. He didn't mean to, he wasn't like those men!_ Spirits, does she hate me now? _When he finally got the courage to look up at the doctor, she could see everything he was wrestling with: pain, anger, despair… guilt.

Dr. Chakwas looked away, blinking as a tear slid down her face. "I never knew about any of this until Shepard was stationed on the SR-1; all of the injuries you lot sustained gave me a lot of time to study her medical records and scans. Some things… Some things couldn't be explained by the previous injuries in her file. I finally asked her about it shortly before Nihlus was assigned to the ship, but she deflected. I kept asking until she finally opened up and told me the story after an… incident."

"Incident?" Garrus asked cautiously. He wasn't sure how much more revelation he could take, and the way the doctor said 'incident' made his stomach turn. _Please tell me this didn't happen twice…Not while I was so close._

"She returned to the ship and almost destroyed the crew bunks. The Council's dismissal when they first accused Saren had set her off and she had returned enraged. Everyone was worried and she was confined to my medical bay until she had calmed down. I had been putting together theories about the… physical abnormalities, and the psychological break she had shown at being rendered powerless gave me enough information to push her into telling me the truth." She let out a long breath and finally looked back to Garrus, looking years older. "She didn't know them, didn't know their names. If she ever found out, she either accidentally or intentionally forgot it; more than likely, she repressed it as part of a defense mechanism. I begged her to press charges, to describe their faces so Alliance Command could find them, but she refused. She was afraid of being ostracized, ridiculed, or even blamed. The system is not kind to women who file this kind of complaint and often victims suffered more than the perpetrator."

"That's… abhorrent."

"I never said it wasn't."

"So they got away with it." His voice was flat, but his eyes sparkled like fire. They promised murder.

Dr. Chakwas nodded slowly and Garrus noted that she looked just as despondent as he felt. Footsteps caught both of their attentions and they looked toward the elevator in time to see Victus round the corner. The Primarch stopped mid stride, turning his head slightly and Garrus realized Victus was listening to his subharmonics. It was useless to try to quiet them now, so Garrus just turned back to the table, mandibles tight to his face. Victus raised a browplate and looked to the doctor for some kind of clue, but she carefully stood and moved back toward the medical bay, mumbling something about wanting to check on Shepard.

Well, that was less than informative. But the sounds coming from Vakarian were telling, if not confusing. Whatever they had been discussing, it involved Shepard and Garrus looked ready to eat his gun. And based on the sounds he was making, the two were related, if not causative.

"What did you do?"

Garrus was on his feet and in the Primarch's face before Victus could blink, a growl tearing from his chest. His talons flexed at his sides and the Primarch stared at him, obviously surprised by the blatant show of challenge and insubordination. He would have been well within his rights to put the soldier down, but… Garrus's gaze was unseeing, the anger and pain there directed somewhere far away. Victus held up his hands in silent appeasement, stepping around Garrus and sliding into the doctor's abandoned seat.

"Talk. It will help."

"How would you know?" The words were spat with such bitterness that Victus paused, mandibles twitching as Garrus began to pace. "How could you possibly understand?"

"Because I had a mate too, Vakarian," Victus replied, crossing his arms loosely on top of the table. "And believe it or not, I was in your shoes once."

"I highly doubt that, Sir." Garrus paused his pacing and stared at the medical bay windows, Victus following his gaze.

"She's in there, isn't she?"

"Yessir."

Victus gave a small grunt and looked back to the younger turian. "I heard there had been a… problem. Is she alright?"

"Are you asking because you care, or because you need her to save Palaven?" Garrus asked, looking back to the Primarch. He knew that his tone was disrespectful, but talking to Victus about his relationship with Shepard was not something he felt would improve his mood.

"Both," Victus replied casually, giving a small shrug. "It would be foolish not to be concerned. That being said, you look ready to rip someone's throat out. It's the same look Shepard had this morning." Garrus visibly wilted and his tone softened—only slightly—and he added, "You do know the damage that this much stress can cause."

"I'm aware, Sir." Garrus replied tightly.

"Good, then come spar with me. I haven't had a good match in ages. My men were always too scared to fight their commanding officer, but you... Well, we know what you think of rank." Victus rose and started for the elevator, not giving Garrus a chance to refuse.

"This all started with sparring," Garrus muttered, casting one last look back toward the medical bay.

"Then end it with sparring," Victus replied, "You need it." Garrus felt the sudden urge to punch Victus, but carefully reined himself in as they boarded the elevator. Maybe he was right…

* * *

Shepard looked up as Dr. Chakwas returned to the medical bay, worry etching lines in the older woman's face. Shepard quickly scrubbed the tear tracks from her cheeks and managed a weak smile.

"Doctor," she managed, voice cracking slightly. She rubbed her chest absently, trying to dispel the lingering feeling of pressure across her shoulders. She hated the feeling of powerlessness, of helplessness, that it left her with. Having an arm or a leg pinned was one thing, but her center was another matter; it left her unable to fight back. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she shook her head to clear it. _Stop it. Stop thinking about it._

"How are you feeling?"

"You're kidding, right?" Shepard replied bluntly. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and set her elbows on her knees, staring down between her feet. "Doc, you know what this is all about. We've been through this. I'm a mess. Psychologically damaged." She spat the last two words and Chakwas could see her fists clench. "I feel just as fucked up as you think my brain is. Worse, probably."

"Shepard, I wish you would talk to me about it."

"Why? I already told you what happened. Two soldiers cornered me in a store room at basic, raped me, and left me there crying and shivering. And when my CO asked why my face was bruised from where they hit me, all I could say was that I fell down." She let out a heavy sigh, visibly slumping; even with just the small change in posture, she looked smaller. Her normal barriers had been whittled down that day and Chakwas could clearly see the broken shell of the young woman Shepard had been, slipping out from behind the façade. "It was twelve years ago, Karin. Talking about it won't change what happened."

"But you could still report the men who did it. At least make sure they face justice."

Shepard's eyes flashed and she slid off the bed, her boots hitting the ground with a quiet thump. "No. I didn't do it then and I won't do it now."

"They can't reprimand you now, Commander! You're a Spectre and humanity's hero! You won't be punished, or blamed!"

"I said no!" Shepard growled, moving to push past the doctor, but the older woman moved to block her path. Anger flared in the Commander's gaze, but Chakwas didn't move.

"If you aren't going to the Brass with this, who will you talk to? You've told me only the bare minimum and that was under duress. I know there is more to this, more that you are keeping inside yourself and it is eating at you. It's not my place to demand details, I know that, but… But what about Garrus?" She saw Shepard flinch and carefully placed a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "He cares for you, deeply. Don't push him away by keeping this from him. He may be stubborn, but he's not an idiot, and he knows something is wrong. Don't you at least owe it to him to talk?"

"I guess… But how do I tell him something like this?" She threw up her hands in a defeated gesture and paced across the medical bay. "This isn't… I don't know how."

Dr. Chakwas glanced toward the still-shaded windows and sighed. She would have to admit what she had done. "Shepard, please understand I never meant to cause you more strife, but I was worried." Shepard's gaze snapped to the doctor, confusion written on her face as she waited for Chakwas to continue. "While not the most professional thing I'll admit I've done, I thought Garrus deserved to know what was going on. I told him only part of what you told me in hopes that it would relieve some of his worry." Shepard's expression went blank and the doctor moved to stand in front of her, taking both of her hands. "Shepard, he loves you. His first thought was to find the men who did this and make them pay. What could it hurt if he knows?"

"Everything." The word was said so quietly that Dr. Chakwas almost missed it and Shepard looked down at her feet. "I don't want to be treated differently, like I'm fragile or weak. I'm not. I just… I don't want him to hate me for not telling him. And I don't want him to think I'm crazy."

"You're not crazy," the doctor huffed, giving her hands a squeeze, "And you're not weak. You're the strongest woman I know, but that doesn't mean you can't have someone take care of you every once and a great while. And I think Garrus wants to. But he doesn't know how unless you tell him."

Shepard didn't look up, trying to control the sudden urge she had to run up to her cabin and cry for days. The carefully constructed barrier she'd built up in her life to surround this secret was crumbling and she didn't know how to stop it. She was helpless. _A victim all over again._ That thought made her sick and she bolted to the sink against the wall, bile burning up her throat for the second time that day. She spat and closed her eyes, waiting for her stomach to settle. She hated this feeling, hated it more than anything in the galaxy, and yet here she was, as helpless as that day in basic.

"I'll think about it, Doctor," she finally rasped, fingers flexing around the edge of the sink.

"That's all I can ask. But I will give you strict medical orders to rest. Up to your cabin, soldier." The command was given so gently and Shepard managed a small smile.

"Aye aye, ma'am."


	4. Chapter 4

**Yay updates! I apologize for the delay; my roommate got really sick and I've been going back and forth to the hospital with her. But, I digress.**

**Greenyoda987 has been super fantastically helpful, as usual. Seriously, I don't know how I would have been able to finish this chapter without you.**

* * *

Now that they were in the hangar bay, sparring with Victus seemed like a terrible idea and Garrus briefly glanced back to the lift, wondering if maybe he should go back and try to check on Shepard. Chakwas couldn't keep him locked out of the med bad all day… He glanced back to look at Victus and his eyes fell on her uniform shirt that was still discarded beside the shuttle; he felt a twinge of despair. _I did this…and I need to fix it._ He turned around again, making a move as if to return to the crew deck, but Victus's voice called out, stopping him in his tracks.

"Running from a fight, Vakarian? That's very…" He let the sentence trail off and Garrus whirled on him, pointing an accusing finger at the Primarch.

"With all due respect, Sir, I don't give a damn. In case you hadn't noticed, there are much more important things I have to worry about than what you think of—"

"Just shut up, son," Victus cut him off, shedding the formal tunic he wore and giving his shoulders an experimental roll. "You aren't going to do any good hovering in the mess until she comes out." Garrus opened his mouth to argue, but the Primarch cut him off again, "Tell me about it, or don't. But you're about as on edge as a man can get and pretty soon it's going to take a toll."

The way Victus kept casually rebuffing him caused Garrus's anguish to recede a bit, his anger taking the spotlight and redirecting itself to the Primarch. _Well… I suppose a quick spar wouldn't hurt,_ Garrus thought, removing the pieces of his armor. He didn't plan to mention anything about Shepard's… incident; he just planned to try to get some of his anger out now before he went to try to talk to her. _You know in your current state of mind, you'd end up taking it out on her. And the last thing you need to do is hurt her more than you already have._ "Alright, Sir," he finally replied, sliding into his stance across from Victus, who mirrored his position with a quirk of his mandibles.

"Good." There was no pretense when Victus leapt at him and Garrus would have been surprised by the Primarch's ability if he hadn't known the man to be a great soldier. Still, he was unprepared for the charge and blocked clumsily as his thoughts wandered of their own accord; he couldn't seem for force his mind to remain on the fight at hand, every thought returning to Shepard. Why hadn't she fought them off? Why hadn't she tried to defend herself?

_Should I really leave her alone at a time like this? This is my fault, at least in part. But maybe she doesn't want to see me now… maybe I would just remind her, again. _His reactions were sluggish and Victus landed more than one sound blow on him as they moved about the hangar.

"Hey yo, Scars! Lola know you get your ass handed to you by politicians?" Vega called out from his lair across from the shuttle. Garrus shot him a venomous glare before throwing a counter blow at the older turian's midsection, but Victus was gone before he could catch his balance. A kick struck his back and he tumbled forward, rolling back up to his feet with a huff.

"Primarch Victus was General Victus before all of this, Vega," Garrus spat, panting lightly, "He is more than a match for me."

"He's also not trying," Victus replied casually, "Really, Vakarian, at least _pretend_ you're trying to hit me." His eyes sparkled with mischief, but Garrus didn't see, anger rising quickly. With a growl, he launched himself at the Primarch, frustration with himself morphing into frustration with the older turian. Yet his thoughts wouldn't focus and he found himself wondering _What can I say to her to make this right? Will she forgive me?_ and couldn't land a blow on Victus. His mind was elsewhere when Victus brushed the punch he'd thrown aside and gave him a firm crack across the scarred side of his face, forcing Garrus to stagger back a few steps. The Primarch stood calmly, appraising him with a pointed look as Garrus rubbed the still-tender scars. "Vakarian, you're distracted. You've been defending this entire time and not well, I might add. Talk."

Garrus scowled, meeting Victus's stare. He wasn't sure whether he should be honored or insulted that the Primarch of Palaven was treating him like his son; he wasn't a child, he didn't need someone to hold his hand while he dealt with his problems. So how _was_ he going to deal with it then?

"What do you want me to say?" he finally grumbled. He was exhausted, yet Victus didn't show any signs that they had been sparring. "I can't fix it because it was in the past, but it still feels like I need to do something." A rumble had risen in his chest and he clenched his hands into fists at his sides, tension making them shake.

"Say whatever you want. It'll get it off your mind."

"And how would you know?" Garrus asked, fixing the Primarch with a cold stare.

"Because I have a family. I had a mate. I know more than just risky military tactics, Garrus. Now, are we going to finish this?"

Garrus considered refusing—even moved as if to leave—but the appalled look on Victus's face stopped him. _He has no idea what Shepard's been through, no idea the damage that's been done. _His rage hit him in full force and his fist connected with the Primarch's unsuspecting face before Garrus had even realized he intended to stay. Well, might as well talk about it now.

"You wouldn't understand," Garrus panted as Victus got to his feet. "It's not…" He struggled to explain without revealing too much, gesturing absently. "There isn't a turian equivalent," he finally sighed. Even that didn't seem to express what he meant, but Victus appeared to be thinking that over as they started circling each other. "It's very… personal, for Shepard."

"Try me."

Garrus wanted to dismiss it—this conversation was not one he could have with… well, anyone, especially not Victus—but forced in a breath. Where did he even start? He caught movement in the corner of his eye and blocked Victus's blow, sidestepping him and delivering a swift kick to the man's back, and raised a browplate. Was Victus trying to distract him from sparring by talking or distract him from talking by sparring?

"She was attacked when she first joined the Alliance. It was… traumatic, and she was hurt." Hurt didn't even begin to cover what had been done, but he wasn't about to reveal that intimate detail with Victus. No, that was something no one would ever know, if he could help it. Shepard had been hurt enough, she didn't need others knowing, not if she had kept it from him of all people. "It was a long time ago but something brought it back up and she's been… struggling." His subharmonics let out a pained trill.

"Did this something have to do with you?" Victus asked as they started circling again. Garrus's trill turned into a growl of anguish and he lunged, barely missing the Primarch's neck as Victus stepped back, batting the blow away and sweeping Garrus's legs out from under him. Garrus was back on his feet in an instant, and Victus bounced out of reach. Of course he had heard the subharmonic trill, Garrus had forgotten what it was like to be onboard a ship with another turian; he had never had to keep them under control on the Normandy before.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Garrus growled. What Victus implied… He knew he had made things worse for Shepard, and he didn't need Victus to remind him. The guilt gnawed at him; he knew that he had brought this down on her, knew that she would have been fine if he just hadn't tried to fix things in his entirely wrong way. But it was the anger he felt burning under his plates, the rage that he hadn't been there to protect her all those years ago, that those men were never caught; it was rage laced with uncertainty: how could she not tell him something like this? Did she think he wouldn't love her if he knew? That thought cut him deeper than any knife, wounded him deeper than any bullet ever could. Did she think he wouldn't stand by her?

His back hit the floor and the air rushed out of his lungs in a surprised huff. Right, he was sparring with Victus. Victus, who was standing over him, holding out a hand to help him back up.

"I think I have a vague idea." The older turian's voice was quieter, more pensive than Garrus had ever heard it and he took the offered hand, letting the Primarch drag him to his feet. There was a pregnant silence as they stood, gazes locked for a moment before Victus turned and stiffly stalked toward the other side of their small sparring ring. He was back into a combat stance before Garrus could ask what he meant; his eyes had gone flinty and his mandibles pulled tight to his face. "Her name was Caecina. She was… is my mate. She's Tarquin's mother." Garrus's browplates shot up; he knew about Tarquin, but Victus had never mentioned his mother. "We served together during the Relay 314 Incident." Pain—the kind that only came from profound loss—flashed across the Primarch's face, but it was gone as soon as it came and he lunged, forcing Garrus to dodge out of the way. They both dove at each other, slamming together with a crack and rolling in a tangle of limbs before springing apart. "She was a field medic, couldn't stand the violence. She didn't like what we were doing to the humans, didn't like all of the lives being ended too soon." His tone was bitter as he recalled his mate. "I thought it was stupid, just a rebellious fancy; she was always willful, like you." A smile pulled at his features briefly, but vanished. "She wanted peace." He threw a quick jab and Garrus ducked, countering with his own. Victus caught his arm and spun, forcing Garrus to move with him and the younger turian was forced to the ground with a rough blow to the back of his knee. Garrus grunted, pain blossoming at the contorted position of his shoulder but said nothing. The Primarch's subharmonics were a tangled mess, mourning and loss sounding louder than the rest; is that what he had sounded like on the Crew Deck, Garrus wondered. "People started to notice her distaste with the conflict. It earned her some negative attention." He released Garrus's arm and stepped back. When he spoke again, his voice was low, the words strained. "She was accosted by several drunken recruits who wanted their shot at combat. She had been talking to anyone who would listen about arranging peace talks, so they threatened her, said that if she didn't stop 'ruining their chances at action' then they would make her pay." A growl started deep in his chest and he looked like he was trying not to lose control; his fists shook and his eyes were unfocused, seeing something many years past.

Garrus rolled his strained shoulder, still watching the Primarch. Maybe he did know what it was like… _It's not the same. _No, that was true. Shepard… Shepard had been exposed and violated in the worst way, her privacy and security destroyed in one instant. No one could understand that. "What happened?" he finally asked, drawing Victus's gaze back to the present.

"I acted the same as you are now. I was angry, demanded to know who they were to make them pay for threatening my mate, but Caecina refused. She said that it was nothing, that they were just young kids with their blood up. But I wouldn't… couldn't let it go. I couldn't live with the possibility that someone put my mate in danger." Even remembering appeared to put him in pain and he let out a roar, diving for Garrus without warning. Garrus ducked, helping the Primarch over his hip and tossing him to the ground. He stood over Victus and held out a hand, pulling the other man to his feet in the same fashion as Victus had done for him. Victus sighed and met Garrus's gaze sadly. "The point is, I know what you're going through, Vakarian."

"What happened to her, Sir? Your mate?"

"She died." It was barely above a whisper and Garrus could hear the crack in Victus's voice. "She was on the Citadel when Sovereign attacked, working with the ambassadors to repair the tensions between our species and the humans." Victus took a deep breath. "I had never shared her passion for peace with the humans—I saw them as upstarts like anyone else—but out of respect for her memory, I wanted to give them a chance." He gave a half-hearted twitch of his mandibles that would have been a smile. "Shepard has been proving me wrong at every turn. Caecina would have loved her…" A low keen—the same one that had been coming from Garrus before—rose in Victus's throat and Garrus gripped his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." It didn't seem to be enough, but it was all he could manage. Yet it seemed empty, knowing how deeply Victus cared for his mate. Any turian would gladly die for their mate; they were halves of the same whole. One could not go on without the other, not entirely anyway. Victus… Garrus could see now that he was a shell of the man he had been before the Citadel was attacked. A light was missing from him and it was so painfully obvious now that Garrus was ashamed that he had not seen it.

"As am I," Victus sighed, "But I will be sorrier if you start mourning your mate when she still lives."

"Sir, I… Shepard… It's much more complicated than that."

"I don't see how." Victus straightened and all at once, the hurt, broken man was gone, replaced by the cool exterior that Garrus had become familiar with. "Your mate is hurting and you want to fix it. You may not be able to get the men who caused it, but that is not what Shepard needs right now."

"I…" Garrus floundered for a moment, trying to explain why Shepard's pain was far more pervasive, far more internal than merely being assaulted, without going into detail. "Shepard is… not protected the way a turian is. She is fragile, soft, by comparison." He could see Victus lift a browplate but pressed on. "Human or not, she's mine. What those men did to her… I don't know how to deal with it without hunting them down and tearing them apart. I feel so out of control… I've never felt so… " He gestured vaguely and huffed out a breath.

Victus shrugged. "I don't know. I still don't know. I find myself wondering every day." He shook his head. "There's no answer to how you deal with what's happened to Shepard. But what you're feeling; Vakarian, you know what that is. You've been denying it whether you know it or not. Shepard is your mate. One cannot exist without the other." Garrus blinked and Victus sighed. "Did you wonder why you reacted so strongly when she died? And yes, I remember your stories about Omega. I listen whether you think so or not. The reason then is the same reason now."

Garrus opened and closed his mouth, trying to form a response. Was it… Was it that simple? Shepard was his mate? He knew he loved her, knew that had been true, but mates? That was… significant. But not unbelievable. No, if he'd thought about it for more than an instant, it would have been obvious: the way he lost himself when she died, the joy he felt at her return, the way his gut coiled at the thought of losing her again. He couldn't bear that thought, always making sure that he never left her side on missions; he refused to be left behind if there was the chance she could be in danger. Hell, he'd put himself in danger more than once just to be certain Shepard was alright—and would do it a thousand times again because he couldn't imagine a life without her in it. She was just… Shepard. She was everything he had ever valued in a person and then some. She was different. Spirits, she was different. He had never felt so driven to protect anyone he'd ever been involved with; hell, he'd never felt any real attachment to them, at least not anything close to what he felt for Shepard. They had been casual fucks—a way to relieve stress—but Shepard… He cringed whenever he thought about mentioning the recon scout to her, but it had gotten her attention well enough. The idea of only relieving stress with Shepard was appalling to him now; he couldn't live with himself if he ever treated her like anything less than his universe. Oh…

"Spirits…"

"You're really that dense, hm? I knew the second you walked up with her on Menae, Vakarian. No one looks at someone the way you look at her unless they are absolutely and undeniably in love with each other." Victus was almost smirking as he said it, but Garrus was a million miles away.

"Shepard's my mate…"

Victus chuckled and clapped a hand on the younger turian's shoulder. "It'll sink in, son, but don't overthink—"

"They hurt my mate." His voice was a low rumble and Victus jumped back as Garrus lashed out blindly. There was nothing to describe the fire in his eyes other than murderous rage. Someone would pay for what had been done to Shepard, his mate. Someone was going to suffer for every second of pain she endured, for every nightmare she woke from screaming, for every terrible memory she couldn't escape. He didn't see Victus anymore, he saw a faceless Alliance soldier, laughing at his triumph over a scared, broken young Shepard—his Shepard. A roar tore from him and he surged forward, shoulder colliding hard with Victus's carapace as he tackled him to the floor. Victus managed to throw Garrus off, but the younger man was already coming at him again. Victus quickly scrambled away from Garrus's savage assault, knocking a particularly forceful punch aside. It was a chance to put some distance between them and Garrus spun, ready to throw himself at his enemy again.

"All of this that you're feeling," Victus panted, "is normal. But it's not going to help Shepard. If she wanted those men caught, she would have hunted them down herself by now, you know that." A growl rose from Garrus, but he didn't try to attack again. "She doesn't need you to be trying to avenge her; she needs you to be there for her." Garrus's stance relaxed slowly as that sank in and Victus gave a slight shake of his head. "I think you know what you should be doing right now, Vakarian."

"Right… You're right…" Garrus shook his head and ran his hands over his face. "Thank you, Sir."

"Any time. I will say that's the first time someone has nearly gotten the better of me." Victus's grin had Garrus shaking his head.

"If you say so, Sir. Now, if you'll excuse me…" He was already halfway to the elevator when Victus called out.

"Be patient."

As the doors slid closed and the lift began to ascend, Garrus considered that. _Patient… _He could be patient, this was Shepard after all. She deserved nothing less than everything he could offer. He leaned back against the wall opposite the doors as his heartbeat began to race. Would she want to see him? How could he comfort her now, when it had happened so long ago? Did he scare her because he was so much larger than she was? Did she ever feel trapped with him? Did she not like when he was on top? Should he act any different? The questions whirled around his mind and he let out an exasperated breath. He would do anything for Shepard… Even nothing if she wished it.

* * *

Shepard couldn't make herself move into her cabin, her feet stuck just inside the door. Her eyes followed the path she'd taken that same morning: fall out of bed, stumble to the bathroom, retch. She forced her eyes closed and tried to take a deep breath. Orders or no, she wouldn't—couldn't—relax. Tension had settled over her shoulders and down her back, making her stoop slightly as she took a long, trembling breath through her nose.

_Will he be angry that I didn't tell him?_

Her hands shook slightly as she forced herself forward, turning to stare at the empty fish tanks occupying the walls. She'd given up on having fish after the first Aquatic Genocide, but the blue glow the tanks gave off was calming and she leaned her forehead against the glass, coolness of the glass seeping into her skin. She wrapped her arms around her midsection and sighed.

_Will he stay? Or will it be too much trouble knowing I'm… damaged?_

The very thought of being left alone again made her knees buckle and she let her weight sag forward until she was leaning entirely on the panels of glass. Every fiber of her being prayed to gods she didn't believe in that Garrus wouldn't leave her. _I don't want to be without him._ Her throat tightened and her eyes burned as she remembered the hurt and confusion on his face when she'd run from him. Did he understand, now, why she had done it? Would he forgive her?

_Will he treat me differently?_

She didn't want that. Garrus had always treated her with so much love and care, but he had also always been overly cautious with her, never wanting to risk hurting her. And that only made her worry more. She didn't want anyone's pity, especially not Garrus's; she didn't want him to treat her like she was fragile. No, she definitely wasn't some fragile little flower that needed to be fussed over just because something terrible had happened. She was Commander Mother-Fucking Shepard, god dammit. No one should be acting any differently around her. She pushed back from the fish tanks, a sudden rush of strength shooting through her body. She had saved the galaxy—twice, in fact—with no support from the powers-that-be, died and came back because she was too busy for that dying bullshit, and had made a habit of accomplishing the impossible. There was no reason for something that had happened so far back in her past to change the way people looked at her. She stalked toward her terminal, but stopped short, looking down at the screen and her sudden confidence began to drain away.

_Everything I've done was to cover that up…_

She gripped the back of her chair tightly, still staring at her terminal. It was true, though, as much as she hated to admit it. Everything she'd done in her career—joining N7, accepting the position of Council Spectre, stopping Saren and then the Collectors—had all been to prove that she was worth something. Her stomach dropped through the floor and she finally gave in, falling into her desk chair and leaning her elbows on her knees. She set her forehead in her hands and rubbed her eyes through their lids. _I showed them, _she thought bitterly, _I'm not nothing._ Her hands wandered to run through her hair, raking through the short strands and she huffed out a breath. She could remember taking her combat knife to her hair the morning after she was… attacked, could remember the confused stares at her uneven haircut and unexpected lack of makeup. Everything that could remind her of what had been done to her was removed with prejudice; she refused to do anything remotely considered feminine. Every now and again she would wonder if Garrus had wanted her to be more effeminate, but wouldn't ask, but the thought was always banished before she could dwell on it. She didn't want to think that he was settling by being with her.

_And now he's going to have to deal with your issues as well as the species barrier. _

She scrunched her eyes shut, trying to stifle the train of thought rushing through her head; she didn't want Garrus to ever feel obligated to stay with her. She knew he cared about her but… she wasn't turian. That fact had been painfully obvious since day one. Hell, it had almost kept them apart, but they had stubbornly endured. And now he knew just how damaged she was, how challenging this might be on top of that. But it was Garrus; she knew that he wouldn't leave her now—especially not now—because he would want to help take care of her, would want to be there for her. And he wasn't someone to give up when things got hard; especially not after the rough start they'd had. But would it only be because he felt it was his duty? Only because he felt obligated to help the person responsible for saving the galaxy? She didn't need her boyfriend to start pitying her and she definitely didn't want him to stay out of some turian sense of honor; she wanted him to stay because he wanted to. If only this hadn't happened, if only she has just…

_I never should have let them get to me._

Her fists clenched against her brows and her jaw tightened, grinding her teeth unconsciously. Her life had been centered around avoiding what she had endured by any means necessary; it had become like an old wound: prone to pain, but tolerable. But it had long since forced her to change. She had isolated herself from anyone showing a romantic inclination on the SR-1, determined to avoid any affection that wasn't on her terms. Kaiden… He did exactly what she didn't want: coddled and fussed over her. And Liara seemed more intent on studying her brain than anything else and… She didn't want anyone that deep in her head. How long would it have been before Liara knew something was wrong with her? No, Shepard had pushed them both away as soon as she could see the light of admiration in their eyes. No, that was not something she was willing to deal with on the first ship under her command. She didn't need her demons coming out and changing the way her crew looked at her. But still, she was ashamed.

_Was I right? To handle this the way I have?_

She lifted her head slowly and clicked her terminal on. The screen glowed briefly before immediately opening an extranet pane and Shepard let her eyes slide over the text. Sergeant Landon Michaels, killed in action aboard the SSV Cairo. No surviving family. Shame, but she didn't mourn his death. Gunnery Chief Jeremy O'Connor, honorably discharged following the geth attack on the Citadel. Last known to be working as an officer with Citadel Security. Well, at least he was doing something good with himself… Wife and two sons have been moved to Terra Nova. Hm. She always tried to wrap her head around the possibility that this man—this person who had so altered her life—was so… normal. He had a family… A wife… Would she have stayed with him if she had known what he did? Shepard shook her head and closed the terminal, setting her forehead on the desk.

She had lied to Dr. Chakwas. It made her feel horrible, but she couldn't ruin the lives of three other people just so she could feel a little bit better. No, that wasn't something she could do. She had been watching O'Connor since she got Spectre clearance and she was sure that he hadn't repeated his crime. Would it really be worth destroying the lives of his family? She pushed away from the desk, getting to her feet quickly. She stared at the dark terminal for a moment before turning away. No, she wouldn't torture herself with that decision. She wouldn't think of how things would be different; three lives were worth more than one.

_It's behind me, dammit._

She was over it. Everything was just… fine. Everything was normal. Normal, dammit! She paced toward the door and back, hands clasped behind her back. Well, as normal as they could be with Reapers knocking at the door. But it was behind her, right? She could see her shower from the corner of her eye and cringed. Ok, not entirely behind her…

_Can't I just…wash this all away? _

She stopped midstride and blinked, considering this. Maybe… Maybe if she faced it… Her brow furrowed slightly and she stalked into the small space before she could change her mind. She hit the water control and gasped as the scalding water sheeted down on her, drenching her through her clothes. Her hands spread on the wall, coolness of the tile seeping into her palms, and she stared at the tiles in front of her face.

Here. Garrus had pressed her against the wall here… Fear shot through her chest, threatening to burst through her sternum, and she felt like a blow had been dealt to the base of her skull. Her heart pounded, but she tried to breathe slowly, chest rising and falling dramatically. Why? Why did it frighten her so much? _Because they held me down…he held me down. _No, no, Garrus wasn't like them. He cared… _Garrus cares about me._ She let out the breath she'd been holding and slid down to her knees. She'd shut down on him here. Why? _Because I thought he was one of them._ No, Garrus wasn't one of them. He wasn't anything like them. Water poured over her head, dripping down her face and back, and she closed her eyes. Was she so blind in her fear that she had mistaken the one person who had never asked anything of her, had never wanted anything for himself, for someone who would take advantage of her? She hated herself for thinking it; this was Garrus. The only thing he had ever asked for help with was to give his fallen squad what they deserved. _How could I think that of him?_ The water had gone cold, rolling like ice off of her skin, but she didn't move.

How could she do that to him?

* * *

Garrus stared at the door of Shepard's cabin, now unsure of whether he should be there. _Get it together. She needs you to be there for her._ Taking a deep breath, he palmed the door control. When it slid open, he paused. This was his last chance to leave her alone. No, no, he needed to be there. "Shepard…" he called quietly, stepping inside. The sound of running water made him stop. She was in the shower… Should he leave?

_No. You can't leave her like this._

So… What should he do? Normally, he would have joined her but… No, not after how it had ended that morning. Should he wait? Leave and come back later?

_Spirits, I don't know how to help her…_

He forced his feet to move, but stopped at the top of the stairs that would lead to her bed. Though he practically lived up here, he felt like he was trespassing. _Maybe I should go…_

He could almost see Victus's disappointed stare in his mind's eye. No, he needed to be there for Shepard. If she didn't want him there, she could send him away. Decision made, he descended the two steps and settled himself on the edge of her bed, eyes locking on his hands as he twisted them together between his knees.

* * *

**Muahaha cliffhanger! Dum dum dum.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm sorry! I know, I know, major delays on everything and I am sorry, from the bottom of my heart. Unfortunately, it's that time of year, so I have ALL the exams, and ALL the papers. And, on top of that, I am now a first-time home owner, so... that's a lot of work. But enough of my excuses! Just know that after this coming week, chapters will be up sooner (I hope... I might be working two jobs over the summer). Onward!**

**Greenyoda987 is the bombdiggidiest of them all. (Seriously, you have her to thank that this chapter even exists)**

* * *

"Water conservation protocols engaged."

Garrus looked up quickly, staring at the closed door of the bathroom, and his brow furrowed. How long had he been sitting there? His legs protested as he stood, cramped after being in the same position for so long, and he winced. Too long. So what was Shepard doing in there? Cautiously, he moved to the door and knocked lightly.

"Shepard?" he called quietly, leaning close to the door. There was no reply and he tried again. Silence. Hesitantly, he gave the door a light push. It slid away and the rush of steam he had expected never came. "Shep—" His eyes found her on the floor and he knelt beside her, lifting her chin gently. Her lips were tinged blue and she was freezing to the touch. _Dammit Shepard…_ Her limbs shook and he could hear the rattle in her breathing. He lifted her carefully, one arm behind her shoulders and the other under her knees, and carried her back into her room. Worry and trepidation made his guilt fall by the wayside, silently retreating as he carried his lover through her cabin. Her head rested against his neck and he shivered; her skin was like ice. "EDI, increase the temperature in the Commander's cabin please." The air circulation system kicked on and he felt a puff of warm air from the overhead vents as he approached her bed. Her clothes were dripping frigid water across the floor and it was beginning to soak through his undersuit—damn, his armor was still in the hangar—and he was suddenly aware that he'd have to get them off her. "Shepard."

She blinked blankly at him and his stomach fell. _Shepard, what can I do?_ he thought dismally, running his hands up and down her arms in an effort to warm them. He was quick in disrobing her, not wanting her icy skin to be exposed for too long, and wrapped her in the blankets from her bed; deep down, a part of him couldn't help but worry about how she would react to the vulnerability of being unclothed—he'd never been nervous to undress her before, but now he feared she would shut down on him again. _Stop worrying about that_, he scolded himself, shaking his head to dispel that train of thought. _How can I help, Shepard?_ He glanced down at her. She was still shivering underneath the covers; at this rate, she would never get warm by herself. Steeling himself for any potential aftermath, he stripped out of his own undersuit and climbed into bed beside her, pulling her tight to him, willing his natural body heat to disperse the chill in her skin. When she didn't pull away and instead, shivered up against him, he moved down to nuzzle her neck comfortingly, a light trill escaping him.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispered. He looked down at her, relieved by the color returning to her face, and stroked her hair gently.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Guilt and pain had settled around his eyes and she looked away, not wanting to see what she had done to him. They both knew it wasn't her latest misadventure that he meant, but neither was going to say it.

"I'm sorry."

"Shepard, I just want to know why. I thought… I thought you trusted me." The plaintive note in his voice made him grimace, yet it didn't make what he had said any less true. Did she not trust him to be there for her?

"I'm sorry."

"Don't… You don't have anything to be sorry for. I'm just worried, Kai."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing!" He really didn't mean to yell—he didn't know why he did it—and she flinched away from him instinctively. His chest tightened and he took a careful breath. Spirits, this was a mess. Every meek apology cut at him. She didn't even sound like herself; the Shepard he knew was incapable of being submissive. "Please, Shepard. You have nothing to be sorry for." He pulled her tight to him again and she didn't resist, tangling her limbs with his. He held down a shiver as she clung to him, praying her body would get back to its normal temperature soon. "I'm worried about you and I want to be here for you. Even if you don't want to tell me yet..."

Shepard savored the heat radiating from him, laying her cheek against the leathery plates of his chest, but didn't say anything. Could she really stay silent, really keep pushing him away when all he wanted to do was help? His arms around her were soothing and gentle, and she could feel the flutter of his mandibles as he set his chin on her head. He could have left, could have made his escape before Dr. Chakwas had revealed her past, but he'd stayed and listened. He could have turned his back after the truth came out, but here he was, trying to be whatever she needed him to be. Why? Why do all of this?

_Is it so hard to believe that he loves you?_ her mind whispered and she closed her eyes.

_Yes._

Shepard tried to keep her breathing even, tried to fortify her resolve to remain stoic; she didn't want him to pity her. She wouldn't be able to stand that look—especially not from him—every time it came to his mind; no one needed to feel bad for her. But her nervousness betrayed her and Garrus pulled back hesitantly, trying to look at her face. She let out a wavering sigh, laying her forehead against his cowl, and gave up the pretense of control, instead just trying to brace herself for his inevitable escape. _Better to just get it over with; sooner it's over, the sooner he can leave_, she thought bitterly. "So now you know the truth," she finally said, feigning lighter-hearted indifference, hoping that he couldn't hear the tremor in her voice. His brows furrowed, but she didn't look up, instead wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. "I'm surprised you didn't make a run for it." An edge of bitterness crept into her voice and Garrus moved back once again, holding her at arms'-length, searching her face. Her posture sagged and she appeared so completely defeated; Garrus didn't think he'd ever seen her look so sad. "I can't make you stay," she pressed on, still not able to look at him, "but will you let me tell you what happened?" He nodded silently, hoping that maybe once she let it all out, she would let him back in. With her eyes still focused on the mattress below her, she took a deep breath and started. "After Mindoir, I had nothing, was nothing. I wanted to do something with myself, and the Alliance had already saved me once." She laid her cheek on his chest again and continued, "They said I was too young, that I should come back in two years. Two years… What could I do? I had nothing, nothing to do, nothing to live for; I didn't think I could live for two years like that. But I did." A bitter chuckle shook her frame against him and Garrus wished he could take away the grief and pain that had brought her to that point, but said nothing. If she wanted to talk, he would listen. "Every day, I went to the recruiter and asked to enlist—every day for two years—until they finally said 'yes' and shipped me off. Everyone else had someone to return home to, something they had left behind, but for it me it was the beginning of my life. I wanted to prove my life was worth something, that _I_ was worth something…" There was a pause and Garrus could tell that she had fallen into the memory, just for a second before coming back to herself. "I had no worth when I got there, but I realized that I could create worth for myself by earning approval from anyone I could get it from." Garrus rubbed circles on her back as she spoke, a silent encouragement to keep going. He could tell she had analyzed it over and over again; the words were clinical and her tone was becoming more and more detached. "My COs labeled me the model recruit, the other recruits saw me as either a goddess or whore. I'm still not sure who was right…"

Shepard paused and glanced up at the turian that still held her. His gaze caught hers and the intensity in his eyes made her shiver. There was no judgment or disgust, not even pity. His expression was tight, mandibles twitching erratically, but he was not angry. It dawned that she had never seen Garrus look this way, but she couldn't quite place the emotion; it wasn't anger, or sympathy, or shock. Was he… afraid?

Garrus could tell that she was trying to gauge his reaction, but she looked confused. Had she expected him to throw up his hands and storm out in a huff? Or did she think he would ooze sympathy and offer condolences for what had happened in her past? _It happened, I can't change that, even if I want to._ But he was terrified of what else could be revealed; could it have been even worse than he'd imagined? What else was there that he didn't know? Would she want him to stay after she had told her story? Or would she feel too exposed and just push him farther away? _Even if she does, you'll be her friend. If that's what she needs, I'll do it,_ he told himself, trying to suppress the knot that rose in his throat at the thought of losing her.

"Garrus, if you don't want to hear this, I understand…"

"Shepard, please, I… I want to help. If that means being here to so you can talk, then so be it. I'm not sure you can surprise me anymore."

_If only you knew._

"If you say so…" She shifted so they were side-by-side, leaning back against the pillows and looked up at the galaxy flying by. "When I was attacked, I didn't realize what was happening. I thought that he was just… flirting. It was normal. But then he got aggressive and dragged me into a storeroom, and then there were two of them." The words had started out slow and controlled, but were now coming out in a frantic flow. She covered her eyes with her fists, trying to stem the tears that had started forming. "I kept threatening to scream and get them court marshaled, that someone would find me, but they knew… They just knew…" A few tears snuck down her face, but Garrus didn't move, didn't breathe. When Shepard spoke again, it was rough and barely audible, "They knew that I was nothing, that I didn't matter and… hearing it from someone else made fighting it seem so… pointless."

"You gave up." It wasn't an accusation, but Shepard flinched. What else could she have done? _Something… Anything…_

"I thought if I didn't fight, they would get it over with and I could move on but…" Her face turned to stone, remembering the agonizing moments, the nearly unbearable pain, and her hands started to shake. "I never… It…" She cursed and chewed on her lip, choosing her words carefully before speaking again, "I never thought it would hurt, I thought I could pretend it wasn't happening and then forget, just like Mindoir, but…" Her voice broke and he could see her whole body convulse as she held in a sob. "By the time I tried to scream it was too late but I couldn't stop, I just… kept screaming, crying… begging." Tears dripped onto the blankets, but she didn't try to wipe them away. "I couldn't look at myself after that. It was my fault, I should have run, should have screamed or fought…" Garrus took her hands in his, shaking his head and she sighed. "I stopped being that person, became someone else to get away from it, and promised myself that I would prove I _was_ worth something, prove that the… that what happened to me wouldn't define me." She bowed her head, trying to swallow past the tightness in her throat. "When I met you on the Citadel, I was grasping at my best chance to be remembered for something important. But it wasn't enough… They had dismissed me as 'eccentric' and then I died. And Cerberus offered up the Collectors, so I tried again. Everything I did… and it's still not enough, I still feel this gaping hole that nothing can fill, and I can feel it sucking me in!" She took a few shaking breaths and Garrus tried to squeeze her hands reassuringly. For a few moments, the only sound in the room was Shepard's heavy breathing as she tried to regain control of her body and Garrus waited, refusing to look away from her for fear that she would disappear back into her shell. "I'm a mess. I'm a fucking mess… And I wouldn't blame you for walking away." The words hung in the air and she waited, fear sitting like a weight in her stomach. She didn't want him to go, but she wouldn't make him stay; he didn't deserve that. But as the seconds ticked by, filled with nothing but silence, what little hope she had started to wane and dread fell over her. He was going to leave…

Garrus tried to gather his thoughts, tried to untangle the chaotic knot of emotions running through him at once. Deep, under his concern and anger and guilt, he still knew that she was all he wanted—all he'd ever wanted—and nothing he had learned would change that.

"Shepard…"

Her heart stumbled and she could feel the almost painful strain on her nerves.

"I would never leave your side."

Shepard blinked and didn't resist when he pulled her to his chest, her arms looped loosely around his waist. She could feel the hum he let out through his body, pleasant and comforting, as he held her. Garrus tried to control his urge to hold her as tightly as he could—she was much too soft for that—in an effort to make her stay with him forever, opting instead to take a deep breath of her scent and commit it to memory.

"I can't bear to be in a galaxy without you there by my side," he purred, hands stroking patterns over her shoulder blades. "Nothing, not a damned thing, in the galaxy is as important as you are to me. And I meant what I said, Shepard: I want to be there for you. I'll do anything you ask of me, even leave." His arms tightened instinctively around her, a silent plea not to send him away. "I would be lying if I said I didn't want to find them and make them pay, but that doesn't matter. What I want doesn't matter. And I don't want to make you think about that." Holding her close, he couldn't help but wonder what she would do if she knew who those men had been: would she have turned them in, or hunted them down like they had Sidonis? He felt his blood run hot at the thought, but pushed it aside. It was over and done with, Shepard had seen to that. And now he had to see to a demon from her past; he owed her that much, and more. "The point is, you mean more to me than life itself. There's no Shepard without Vakarian, one can't exist without the other."

Shepard stayed silent, too stunned and relieved to speak. Was he really staying? After everything? He simply kept holding her, patiently purring out calming trills while she tried to come to terms with all that he'd said. There were no words that she knew to describe what she was feeling. _What did I do to deserve someone who loves me even though I've hurt them?_ She felt tears burn her eyes and buried her face against his neck, molding her body around his. Words had failed and she could only hope that he could feel what she did through her body. He could feel the cool wetness of her tears sliding down between his plates, but she clung to him so tightly, he didn't try to pull away. A little water wouldn't hurt him. Carefully, he drew her down with him to the bed and she nuzzled her cheek against the pillow, pressing up against the side of his body. She tangled her legs with his, trying to press every inch of herself against him, and he couldn't help the glow of warmth that blossomed in his chest. He would always love Shepard, with every fiber of his being, but a moment like this—when nothing was important but one another—was so rare and sincere… She wasn't Commander Shepard, Savior of the Galaxy; she was Kailynn Shepard, a woman with feelings, and troubles, and needs. And Garrus relished seeing her as a woman, not just a Commander.

"I love you, Kai," he murmured, close to her ear and she tipped her face up to look at him.

"I love you too." Her eyes were closed and her voice was muffled—from the way her face was pressed against the pillow or from exhaustion, he couldn't tell.

A contented purr rumbled from his chest and he bumped his forehead against hers, making her smile a little. She wouldn't know what it meant, but someday… He looked down at her and held in a chuckle; her breathing was deep and even and he could tell she had fallen asleep. Good. She deserved some rest and—after the events of the day—her exhaustion was not surprising. But Garrus was wide awake, concern and anger still coursing through his body; he focused his attention on Shepard, trying to push aside all the emotions warring within him. Simply looking at her caused a sense of serenity to wash over him; she was here, and she was okay—or at least, she would be okay. The lines of worry and stress had been smoothed from her face and he carefully ran his talons through the short strands of her hair. She hummed quietly and leaned toward the contact instinctively, exposing the length of her neck. Every part of him, every cell, knew he could never care for anyone—never love anyone—the way he did for this human woman. She had his heart in her hands, whether she knew it or not. Absently, he traced the unmarked skin on her shoulder where a bondmark would go, imagining the two perfect curves and how beautiful she could look.

_You still didn't bring that up,_ part of his mind chided. He wanted to—after sparring with Victus, there was no doubt in his mind about his commitment to Shepard—but it just… didn't seem like the right time.

_Will there ever be a right time?_

His breath hitched slightly and he quickly studied Shepard's face before relaxing; she was sound asleep. Would there be a right time? The Reapers were attacking in force, and Cerberus was mucking around on the side. What if… Garrus felt his chest tighten. What if they didn't survive? What if this war was the last thing they did? His gaze inevitably wandered back to the woman sleeping in his arms and he felt his heart beat a little faster.

_Not without her._

Never without Shepard. He would go to hell and back to stay with her, to keep her safe; this war was not about to change that. Hell, he would go to hell and back if she simply asked, no explanation needed. But would she want to stay if they _did_ survive? Should he be content with what he had, and forget about this mate business? Shepard stirred, cuddling further into his embrace, and his mandibles twitched into a smile. If she agreed, he wouldn't hesitate to take her as his mate.

He'd always wondered what she would look like wearing his paint…

Tentatively, he brushed the pad of his finger along her cheek, imagining the sweeping blue lines under her eyes, flowing from one cheek, across her nose, and onto the other. He could almost see the lines along her jaw, the accents beside her eyes; visualizing her decorated as his stirred something within him and he pressed his forehead against hers again before settling back to watch her sleep.

Shepard's eyes flickered open and she looked up at him groggily. "Keeping watch, Garrus?" she mumbled and he chuckled, giving her shoulders a squeeze.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "Just… stuff."

"Garrus, you don't usually look deep in thought when you're just 'thinking about stuff'," she pointed out, stretching out like a cat before curling back up against him. "Penny for your thoughts."

"I don't even know what a penny is," he grumbled plaintively and she laughed. This. This was normal. This was the way it was supposed to be. He couldn't help but smile down at her and press his mouthplates to her hair in his approximation of a kiss. "I was thinking about us." When she said nothing, he continued, "I was thinking… With this war, and the Reapers, it's… hard to remember that there are good things in the galaxy, and to think that the one good thing I have might not be there the next day…" His arms around her tightened and he felt her snake her arms around his waist. "I don't want to live a day without you." His tongue felt clumsy as he tried to find the words for what he wanted to say next. "What I'm trying to get at is, I'm with you, Shepard. For as long as you want me to be. Forever, if I can get it. And—"

"Garrus." She cut off his rambling with a finger over his mouth. "You're willing to stay with me after all of this? After seeing just how broken and fucked up I am? After I had a mini-breakdown and broke Vega's nose?" Her brows furrowed in confusion—the way her expressions contorted her face was adorable to him—and he nodded. Really, it seemed obvious in his mind, but if Shepard needed to hear it, then Garrus would tell her every day until he died. "Even though this could be over tomorrow?"

He took her hand in his, pulling it away from his face to weave his fingers with hers. "Especially because of that." His voice dropped and he pressed his forehead against hers again—it felt so natural, he was finding it hard to resist—before he spoke. "I would sooner die to save you than live with even the possibility of being without you." He forced his eyes closed and dropped his head to her shoulder. "I don't want anything else, and…" He took a long breath, closing his eyes for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "Shepard, I wanted to… No, I mean, would… Damn, this is harder than I thought." She blinked at him and Garrus sighed. He knew what he wanted to say—it was all so clear in his head, and the words had been there when she was asleep—but now, knowing her gaze was resting on him, it was almost impossible. "Listen, Shepard, I… I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you'd have me, that is…" His mandibles fluttered nervously as he waited.

Shepard was silent for a moment, the magnitude of what he'd just suggested falling over her in waves. Did she? Of course she did, Garrus was the best thing that could have happened to her; he stood by her in the face of everything they had been through and was still crazy enough to love her. Oh, she loved this man. She looked up at him again, smiling inwardly at the nervous twitch of his mandibles, and she tightened her arms around his waist. She didn't feel like words would do her answer justice, so instead, she just pressed her mouth to his, all her feelings pouring out through the kiss and drawing a surprised warble from the unsuspecting turian. Her tongue begged entrance and he obliged, relishing the chance to taste her. Her tongue was soft against his as they dueled and he found himself pressing his body insistently against hers; her body arched against his and he chanced letting a hand slide down her back, savoring the shiver that she rewarded him with. When she pulled away, they were both breathless and she laid her forehead against his. "Does that answer your question?"

"I've never been very good at this sort of thing," he panted, trying to suppress the urge to take her right then, "so you're going to have to tell me."

She chuckled; it was low and soft, like fine silk, and he felt his insides tighten. "Yes."

The sound he made spoke of absolute joy—from the way the day had started, he would never have thought of being this happy at the end of it—and he nuzzled her cheek, giving her neck a light, affectionate nip before pressing his mouth to hers again. When his teeth grazed her lip, she gasped and he took his chance, tangling his tongue with hers again. He swallowed the surprised and pleased hum that she made, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of her head before they pulled apart. His mind was spinning, but he was vaguely aware that he was forgetting something and he desperately tried to recall what it was. Shepard didn't leave him any time to think, trailing light kisses along his mandible to his neck and biting at the tough skin with her own blunt teeth, and every time he thought he was close to remembering, it would fly out of his mind. Her attentions found just the right spot and he growled, grabbing her shoulders to push her back. She stared at him in muddled confusion as his breath came in short puffs. He would have been more than happy to let her continue but even his pheromone-riddled mind knew this was important.

"Just… Just wait a second, Shepard," he said, voice rough, "I need…" He could feel one of her hands on his waist, running light circles with her numerous fingers as the other trailed up his arm, over his shoulder and… He grit his teeth as she expertly pressed her fingers into the sensitive skin below his fringe. Damn her, he loved this woman. "Spirits, I need you, but… Shepard." He finally grabbed her hands, eyes boring into hers. Her face was flushed and he could smell her arousal, feeling his own rise to match, but tried to push it from his mind. "I want to be sure that you know what you're getting into. This is… serious." That word sounded so silly, but it was the best he could think of. "Turians don't… We view sex as casual, but when it comes to a relationship like this, it's for life." She shifted against him and he could feel the warmth of her sex against his thigh, forcing him to rein in the surge of lust that rushed through him. "Are you sure about this?" If she was going to back out, it needed to be now or he would be lost.

"Garrus." Her voice was like velvet to his ears and he purred against her, letting his talons drift down her neck to trace up and down her spine between her shoulder blades. Shepard chewed her lip lightly for a moment, trying to think through the fog of need that clouded her mind. Really, she would have said yes if he'd asked at any other time – no questions asked – and it wouldn't have been a mistake. She knew she loved him; he was her best friend. However, the event s of the day had her thinking. Everything that had been dug up, everything that had fallen apart, and everything that had been said… He hadn't cringed once at anything she had revealed, never once made a move to leave. And now he was telling her that he'd never leave her side; that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her – baggage and everything – no matter how short that life might be. His words came back to her.

_Especially because of that._

There was no way to know how much longer they would have together because of this war. Did she really want to ruin what time they had together by closing off part of herself? He had never given her a reason to not trust him, so why was it so hard for her to trust him with this part of herself? He was completely committed to her, that much was clear. But there was nothing certain about this war, about her life as a soldier. What if something happened to her, and he had to go on without her? She would never wish that on him… but, at the same time, she knew if their positions were swapped, she would never give up the chance to be with him, even if only for a while. The only thing that she was sure of at this point was sitting right in front of her, mandibles twitching erratically. She knew what she wanted. "You're the only thing I'm sure of right now."

His mouth was on hers again before she could say anything more, hard and insistent, and then gone. She felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs and panted as he trailed light, teasing nips down her neck. She pulled their hips flush together, whimpering when he stopped.

"Do you trust me?"

"What…"

"Do you trust me, Shepard?"

For an instant, she remembered every mission—every time he'd had her back, every time they had beaten the odds—and nodded. He looked ready to make her say it, but decided against it and bent his mouth to the juncture of her shoulder and neck. She felt his teeth resting on her skin, his hands firm on the back of her neck and around her waist, and her breath hitched; she was used to playful nips along her neck, but he was poised as if he was going to bite down fully. He had never tried to really mark her before and she tensed, a sudden and unexpected thrill of fear shooting through her at the thought. He could kill her right now… That thought stuck at the forefront of her mind and Garrus leaned away from her, sensing her nervousness.

"Shepard, we don't have to… It's traditional but if you… if you're not sure…"

"No, I… I want to," she said quickly, trying to preemptively dispel the disappointed look that appeared to overtake his face. "Please, Garrus." She paused, holding his gaze for a moment, trying to reassure him while also trying to steel her own resolve. "I trust you." He finally nodded, pressing his fingers against her waist lovingly.

"Okay, just… Tell me if you want me to stop." Cautiously, he moved back down her neck again. He could feel the quickening of her heart beat and paused, but when she didn't pull away, he set his teeth against her skin again. Again, he paused.

Shepard let out a shaky breath, but didn't move. This was Garrus, she trusted him with her life. _He would never do anything to hurt me._ Her shoulders relaxed slightly and she closed her eyes, waiting.

A calm seemed to pass over her and he took the opportunity. It only took a small flex of his jaw to break the skin; her flesh gave easily under his teeth and her blood tasted coppery when it hit his tongue. He heard her muffled gasp and held her fast when she instinctively twitched away; if she moved, he could seriously hurt her, and he would never forgive himself for that. With great care, he released her, licking the small punctures before looking back to her face.

"Are you alright?" Worry had crept into his voice and he wondered if it would have been wiser to wait rather than pushing this on her, but the rush of emotions at asking her to be his mate had demanded a more physical symbol of his commitment. For a fleeting second, he wondered if he had been wrong to do this now. _Maybe we should have waited until she was… more herself._

"Never better," she replied, reaching up to touch the already-scabbing marks lightly. "What… What is it for?"

"It's, uh… It's a bond mark. Essentially, it's that you and I are… mated." His mandibles pulled tight to his face, betraying his nervousness. She smiled warmly and pulled him down to press their foreheads together. A surprised trill escaped him, morphing into a contented purr as she massaged the back of his fringe. All of his doubts disappeared, replaced by the almost unbearable joy threatening to burst out of his chest.

"Good."

His eyes widened a little, startled and she chuckled at his obvious shock.

"I…"

"Don't think about it too much, Garrus," she cut in, pressing their bodies flush together again, needing the contact now more than ever. She needed to feel him, to know that he was actually there, that he hadn't left and that he wouldn't. Garrus's previously-forgotten lust flooded through him again, feeling her legs tangle with his own once again. "I was hoping you'd finish what you started," she breathed against his neck, kissing a trail up his rough hide and he growled, talons digging lightly into the skin of her hips. She trailed a hand down his chest, her fingers cool against the skin between his plates, and stopped at the lower part of his stomach. His growl dropped an octave and she chuckled. "Impatient?" She ghosted feather-light touches over his pelvic plates and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to reign in the need he had to make her his.

"Shepard…" It was half plea, half warning, and she finally laid her palm against the growing gap in his plates. He bucked into her hand and crushed his mouth to hers in a rough, bruising kiss that left her breathless. He had fully emerged from his plates when they pulled apart and he rolled so he was hovering over her without thinking about it. He saw the flash of instinctive terror in her eyes and froze; how could he have forgotten so soon? "Spirits, Shepard, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"Garrus, relax. It's… It's fine." She gave him a shaky smile and looped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "I trust you," she whispered, though he could still hear the waver in her voice. He brought a hand up to cradle her cheek and she leaned into it gratefully; he could feel the rapid beat of her heart and wondered if he should stop—maybe she would be better off if they waited—but she stopped him by hooking her legs up over his hips and pulling him close. He inhaled sharply, feeling her folds pressed invitingly against his straining erection, and she pressed her forehead to his. He met her eyes, his gaze darkened by lust and need and… love. Adoration. He adored her. Yes, that was it. More than anything the galaxy could ever offer him. He let his hand slide to the back of her head, holding their foreheads together as he shifted himself above her.

Shepard closed her eyes for a moment, trying to push down the fear that threatened to choke her; it was second nature, an automatic reaction, but she hated it. She wanted to enjoy this, wanted to share an intimate moment with the only person she trusted with every part of her, and she wasn't going to let her past ruin this moment for her. When she met his gaze again, she gave him a small smile and rolled her hips against him.

"Please, Garrus."

A protective, possessive growl rose out of him and he thrust forward, struggling not to bury his face in her neck and pound into her. No, this needed to be slow; she needed to know he would do anything for her, even hold back. She gasped at the initial shock, gripping his shoulders tightly, but kept her eyes on his; they betrayed his concern and worry, but neither of them looked away. Finally, he moved, flexing his hips only slightly when her legs tightened around his waist and he froze again.

"Shepard, are you sure…" The lust-addled part of his brain screamed to just do it, but the precarious uncertainty of everything forced him to ignore it. He could feel the muscles of his arms twitching in protest to being locked in the same position, supporting his weight, but kept his attention on Shepard. Her lips were pressed into a thin line and he could see the tension in her brow. She nodded, massaging the back of his fringe, and pulled his chest flush with hers. His hand on the back of her neck tightened, the other spreading across the small of her back. "Are you—"

"Yes," she cut him off. He didn't know how she did it, but with a feat of flexibility he could never wrap his mind around, she took him deeper and he let out a surprised gasp that subsided into a pleased rumble. His body had given up resisting and now his mind followed with it; he relished the feeling of her body, but even more, in the blissful sighs that escaped her. This was not the frantic fucking of two people seeking release; instead, it was the slow, careful love-making of two people who could never live without each other. His hips rocked against hers and she arched against him, her breath ghosting over his mandibles. Her eyes fluttered shut, but he kept his eyes on her face, wanting to see every change of her expression—humans had so many, it fascinated him. When her eyes opened again, the tension and fear were gone and he felt a surge of relief, driving a bit harder and earning a moan of delight from the woman below him. He slid his hand from her back, down over her hip, to grip her thigh and shifted one knee under her body.

The new angle made Shepard throw her head back and Garrus took the opportunity to run his tongue along the mark he'd made on her shoulder, making her shiver. She crossed her ankles behind his back and pulled his face back to hers.

"I… Christ, Garrus," she stuttered, biting her lip as he hit the perfect spots inside of her, "I want to see you."

Oh. He felt his heart jump into his throat and he blinked. She shifted against him and he growled, bucking into her; the mewl of pleasure that fell from her lips shot through him and he gave a deliberate thrust forward, keeping his gaze locked with hers. Her eyes misted and she gave a cry of ecstasy, nails digging into the tough skin between his plates. His pace was slow, savoring every push and pull, every sound she made, and relishing the steady build.

"I love you." The words were whispered across her cheeks and her eyes widened slightly. He could feel the muscles within her flutter and cradled her cheek. "I love you, Kailynn."

One last push sent her over the edge and she all but screamed, body arching off the bed as her orgasm ripped through her. He stilled, watching her as the waves of pleasure crashed over her; she had tilted her head back, exposing the column of her throat and clenched her eyes shut. Her lips parted and he could see the sheen of sweat over her body as she steadily came down from her euphoric high, shudders running through her. He was fascinated and when she blinked her eyes open, he nuzzled her cheek affectionately.

"Garrus…" She gave a slight shake of her head and looked at him again. "You didn't—"

"That doesn't matter."

Shepard frowned, a smaller one creasing her brow. He was on his back before he knew what had happened, Shepard leaning over him, his still-erect cock still buried inside of her. "Yes it does."

The first roll of her hips made him grab her hips roughly and thrust up into her. Her hands framed his face, fingertips caressing his mandibles as she held their foreheads together, and lifted herself off of him before driving back down. A savage growl ripped out of him, his talons digging into her flesh as she rode him, and he tried to keep his eyes open. She clenched her body around him again and he roared, his own completion hitting him like a blow between his eyes. He was vaguely aware of her lips brushing against the plates of his forehead and he wrapped his arms around her. He rolled so they were on their sides and bundled her against his chest as he purred against her hair.

"I love you too," she murmured against his shoulder, entwining her fingers with his as she started to drift. Garrus pressed his mouthplates to her hair again, watching her breathing become even as sleep took over. Tenderly, he ran his knuckle down her cheek, enjoying the glow of peace that radiated from her. She was beautiful. His everything. His mate. _More to me than life itself…_

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**I hope you guys like this chapter! It was definitely a bit harder to write than I care to admit, but I love how it turned out. Let me know what you all think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Updates! I really need to get back to updating more often... The good news is, after this week, I'll have more time to write. Yay!**

**Mega-props to greenyoda987 for patiently coercing me into starting this chapter. Thank goodness for you, or I would never get anything done.**

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Acrid smoke hung in the air, idle like a noxious fog, and Shepard coughed as they limped their way back through the Citadel, searching fruitlessly for any sign of Lieutenant Bastard Kai Leng. Exhaustion made her steps plodding and labored, each one more difficult than the last as they retraced the round-about path they had taken. Shepard hauled herself over the low ledge leading back to the ransacked Presidium shops and grimaced; her muscles screamed in protest and her limbs felt like lead weights under the dull throb of forming bruises. But even more than the physical discomforts, she was worried. What if there were more Cerberus defectors? What if Kai Leng was just waiting for another chance to jump out of an air vent and kill someone else? What about Thane? She stopped walking, causing Garrus and Liara to pull up short behind her, confusion on their faces.

"We need to find anything we can on Cerberus's plans," she said hoarsely, coughing again. Damn this smoke; it burned down her throat and made her eyes sting and water. "See if there's anything on the bodies that can tell us where they might be headed." She didn't wait for their agreement, trudging over to a cluster of Cerberus bodies—the lack of blood was a sign that Liara's biotics had been their cause of death—and crouched beside them. Her fingers released the seals on the trooper's armor and she recoiled slightly. The telltale glow of Reaper tech marred the man's greyed skin and she felt her stomach revolt; no matter how many times she had encountered husks and their variants over the years, the stench still surprised her. How was it that human flesh and machine gave off a scent worse than death? Carefully avoiding the blue puss leaking from his eyes, she fished for his comm inside his helmet: nothing. She cursed and inched over to the next, but was greeted with the same results. Damn it. The rest of the bodies were equally unhelpful and she shoved them aside with a huff. A flash of blue caught her eye and she carefully began pushing the Cerberus corpses away, revealing the form of a fallen salarian C-Sec officer. A sigh escaped her and she stood, knees aching in a way that made her feel ancient. "Make sure to lay out the fallen," she called out, not looking for her team as she dragged the man out of the pile, a trail of green painting the ground as she did. Damn Cerberus for all this death. Gently, she laid him out, folding his arms over his chest and said a prayer to whoever he called his creator that there was something nicer waiting. The corner of a page tucked into his pocket caught her eye and she cautiously slid it free; it wasn't a page, but an old printed photograph showing the salarian and a smiling human man, arm in arm. They were so happy… She felt her throat tighten and slid the picture under the alien's hands, over his heart. Cerberus would pay—the Illusive Man would pay—for every life like this that they stole.

Garrus paused from his search through the wreckage of an Atlas to watch her, numbly observing the care she took in positioning the unknown officer's remains; he couldn't say he was surprised, but it _did_ seem overindulgent for a total stranger. But he would never tell her so. No, she did everything for a reason, he was realizing. Even if those reasons were mind-bogglingly bizarre and only made sense to her, she had a reason. Maybe one day he would understand… Liara touched his arm in a silent question and he merely shook his head; whatever his mate was thinking, he didn't know what it was. He moved alongside the asari as she went to lift a section of fallen rubble with her biotics, but her sharp intake of breath drew his attention. Beneath the slab, the crushed bodies of a mother trying to shield her children stared up at them with empty eyes, eyes that showed their last moments of fear, and Garrus turned away, forcing his eyes shut. The floor around them was stained a mix of red and purple and too late he realized one of the children was asari. He heard the strangled sob Liara made and caught her before she fell to the floor. She was so light, he realized as he drew her up, and so delicate, it was hard to equate the woman crying in his grip as the fearsome Shadow Broker. A quick glance showed that Shepard had moved a bit further on, diligently arranging the dead side by side for the remaining authorities and families to identify; her shoulders were hunched and he could see the shimmering tracks of tears on her face, cutting through the dust and grime. They were all so tired of death, of watching people die for a war no one had asked for, for a war most had even denied existed. He couldn't imagine how much it must have frustrated her to be there now, knowing that so long ago; she had tried to warn everyone that this misery was coming. And now, when horrors came knocking at their door, the galaxy expected her to fix it. He wanted to go to her side, to reassure her that she had done everything right, but he also knew she didn't want that; Shepard didn't want sympathy or condolences, she wanted to pick up the pieces and move on, make everything right. She didn't intentionally dwell on things; she fixed them.

Liara pulled free of his hands and waved off his inquiring glance. "Go. I can take care of… of this." Tension lined her mouth, but her expression was blank save for the remnants of tears; this was the indomitable and unstoppable Shadow Broker. Garrus gave her shoulder a light squeeze and turned back toward his mate.

Shepard grunted under the strain as she hauled a turian civilian from under a crashed skycar, pain shooting up the muscles in her back, but she didn't stop until the body was free of the debris. In his hands, a datapad showed his last moments, frantically sending a message to… Shepard covered her mouth with her hand as she read the hastily typed lines. "Miria theyre coming Im sorry I wont be there when you return tell the children I love them."

"Shepard?"

She laid the datapad back in the man's hands and laid him out as she had the salarian, as she had all the other dead, before looking up at her lover. "I'm so sick of people dying," she finally said, "I'm so sick of families falling apart because of this goddamn war." Before he could stop her she spun away and began pulling another body free.

Garrus watched her helplessly, but didn't say anything. What _could_ he say? That it wasn't her fault? She knew that, but it would still upset her. That there was nothing she could have done? That wasn't good enough for her.

With a huff, Shepard managed to get the human man out from under the skycar, his C-Sec uniform stained black with leaking engine fluids. Blood and dirt streaked his face and Shepard wondered who this poor bastard had left behind. She set her hands on her knees, pausing to catch her breath, and studied him. He seemed familiar, for some reason, but she just couldn't place…

Son of a bitch.

She froze, eyes widening slightly. There was no way… It couldn't be… She analyzed every minute detail of his face, trying to find some evidence that it wasn't him. Stubble shadowed his chin and crows' feet spread from the corners of his eyes. His cheeks sagged a bit, and his hairline—speckled with silver—was receding, but under the ravages of time, she knew. Jeremy O'Connor was dead. After all those years… After all that time, was the galaxy so small that she would be the one to find him again? The odds… Well, the odds were beyond miniscule, but at the same time she wasn't sure that fate would have let it be anyone else.

_What about his family?_

Garrus had bent to retrieve a few loose thermal clips, and when he looked up again he couldn't help but notice the change in Shepard's posture. Everything about her stance screamed "distraught", and he cautiously came up alongside her. "You alright?"

She started and took a few steps backward. "Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine," she said quickly, before turning her face from Garrus's inquiring eyes and stalking away. _No I'm not._ This couldn't—shouldn't—be happening. _Why_, she silently inquired of the sky, _why does this happen every time I've put it behind me?_

She wasn't fine, Garrus knew her well enough to know that. Her cheeks were pale under the dirt and her eyes were too wide for everything to be "fine". His brow furrowed and he sent after her, long strides letting him catch up with her quickly. "Shepard, I can tell something's wrong," he started, voice low, "Please, just talk to me and we can—"

"I said it was nothing, so let it go!" The explosion of frustration made him stop short. "I don't need you hanging over my shoulder all the time, Garrus. I can take care of myself!" She didn't stop walking, forcing her legs to carry her to the edge of the Presidium. Gratefully, she leaned over the railing, staring down at the calm waters of the lakes far below. This was too much; everything felt like it was slipping through her fingers. Her firm grip on control felt flimsy and she couldn't seem to rein it all in. _Not again… Please, not again._ Helpless. She felt helpless—like she was drifting—and it settled like ice in her veins. She desperately tried to control her breathing, forcing the action to an unbearably slow pace. But her heart still pounded in her ears and her grip on the railing tightened. _Damn it._

Garrus could see her inner turmoil—the subtle tremor down her arms, the tension down her neck—and hung back. Now that he knew about… about her past, he couldn't help but worry. That was a lie, he'd been holding in worry and concern since she'd revealed her horrific story, but he'd made every effort to treat her the exact same way. He knew that she was stretched thin and—thanks to Dr. Chakwas—knew that her mental state was fragile. So how in the hell was he supposed to approach this? The C-Sec officer in him immediately wondered if she would try to jump, if he should try to get Liara to back him up, but he pushed it out of his mind. This was Shepard, not some Wards junky. Still, he knew to be cautious; he moved to stand beside her, careful to approach so she could see him, but left a respectful space between them. She still didn't look at him; her eyes were locked far below, but her gaze—he could tell—was turned inward.

"Shepard, I know you. Nothing ever bothers you—you're always so calm—but right now, you look ready to jump out of your skin." He tilted his head slightly to get a better view of her face and, when she didn't answer, continued, "I don't doubt your ability to handle any and everything, but I do doubt my ability to not worry about you. Please, talk to me?"

Her knuckles whitened as her grip on the metal rail tightened, head still bowed, but her shoulders sagged slightly after a moment; he counted it a small victory when she finally looked up at him. Shepard chewed her lip absently as she tried to think of the best way to tell him what she was thinking. She knew she couldn't keep it to herself, not when he was so sincerely troubled by her problems. No matter how often she asked herself, she never knew how he could care about her so much; she knew he loved her, but it seemed like so much more than that. No, she couldn't refuse when he only wanted to help… Not when he asked like that.

"It's finally over," she whispered, looking back down at the lakes, "They're both finally dead." Saying it aloud felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she straightened, rolling her shoulders back. It was over…

Finally? Garrus tensed; she knew? She had known? He forced his expression to remain blank. "What do you mean?" He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her. _Why wouldn't she tell me?_

"I… I found them. Sergeant Landon Michaels died over the Citadel, when Sovereign attacked the Citadel. He was on one of the Alliance cruisers that we lost. Gunnery Chief Jeremy O'Connor was discharged after the attack." Her breath was shaky as she exhaled. "I never thought I'd have to see them again… It was so easy to put half the galaxy between them and me, so easy to just keep running from it…" she trailed off, the corner of her mouth curling into a bemused smile. "But there he is. Dead as Landon."

Garrus risked a glance back at the man she had last laid out and noted the marred uniform he wore; the gears in his head worked overtime, analyzing every little bit of information. "He was C-Sec?" The strain in his voice was obvious to him, but Shepard merely nodded, either ignoring or unaware of the change in the turian's mood. Rage boiled in his veins and it took a herculean effort not to storm away and empty a clip into the man's head. _No, he's already dead, that won't help._ Still, it would have made him feel better; how could they let someone like him—a rapist, a _monster_—enforce the law? Let this man enforce the same law he himself had broken, protect people from the same horrors he had inflicted on someone? Garrus's gut twisted painfully the more he thought about it. What if he had been a dirty cop? What if he'd never stopped? _What if we worked together?_ That thought made him sick and he forced his eyes closed, trying to breathe evenly. When he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper, "You knew?"

Shepard stared at him, confusion written on her face. "What?"

"You knew who he was? Who they were?"

He finally looked at her then and she winced at the barely-contained anger in his voice. "I… knew when I got my Spectre status. I found their military records," she said quietly, "I wanted to make sure that… that it hadn't happened again."

"Hadn't happened again?! How could you know?!" He was almost shouting now. "Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't tell _me_?!" Pain. He was hurt—insulted—that she hadn't trusted him with that information and she took a couple steps back, but didn't look away. Her expression was stony and he could see that the wall she always built—the wall he had worked so hard to tear down—was coming back up, hiding her behind a mask.

"Because I knew this would be how you'd react!" she snapped. Her fear and panic over the helpless feeling she'd been left with had progressed into anger and redirected itself onto the man who stood accusing her. "I didn't _want_ to tell anyone because I would have had to relive it every time I needed to give a statement, every time I had to testify, if it came to that. Michaels died years ago, and I'm not sorry about that. Don't mistake my silence for forgiveness, Garrus, because I never forgot what they did to me, nor did I let time absolve them. But O'Connor had—has—a family; a wife, children. I was not about to ruin their lives too." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, waiting for him to argue with her.

And he did. "Why is their happiness worth more than your peace of mind?" he growled, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He didn't—couldn't—understand her logic to let them keep on living. _What about justice? _She hadn't hesitated to let him kill Saleon, and Sidonis, yet her own enemies—people she had every right to hate and want dead—had lived their lives without punishment. _How is this right?_

Shepard's eyes flashed and she let her arms fall. "Because I moved on! I put it behind me!" she shouted at him, gesturing angrily. "Ruining the lives of his wife, or his children—innocent people, Garrus—wouldn't have made me happy!" She huffed out an exasperated sigh and looked away from him. "Why won't you let this go? I have." When she met his eyes again, he could see that the fire had left her gaze and weariness—with him and with the universe—had settled into her bones.

But still his temper threatened to get away from him. "What do you gain by staying silent, Shepard?" he asked darkly, "Why are you doing this?" She scowled, confusion and surprise showing in her face but he pressed on. "I want to make this right, for you. I want to make sure you never have to live through that again. I saw what this did to you in the cargo bay; I know how much this hurt you. I know you! Why won't you let me do this for you?"

Her brow arched and she laughed—a bitter, mirthless sound that made him pause—before answering. "You know what, I give up. I shouldn't have expected you to understand; you kill what you see as wrong, or evil, and I just want to forget." Her words hit him like blows and she had stormed away before he had recovered. Oh, he had made a mistake… That thought hit him just a little too late and he resisted the urge to slap himself.

_Great job, Vakarian. You've managed to piss off the woman you love in the most mind-bogglingly awful way possible_, he though snidely as he started after her. "Shepard!" he called, but she didn't stop. In fact, she seemed to pick up her pace and he sighed, following. "Damn it, Shepard, stop! Just… Just listen, would you?!" Without thinking, he grabbed her arm to stop her and was immediately reminded why that was a bad idea; she spun, aiming a punch for his midsection. He caught her other arm before it could connect, swearing under his breath. "Shepard, stop, please just—" Her forehead made solid contact with his face and he staggered back, letting her go to cradle his abused nasal ridges.

"Oh, fucking—Garrus, I'm sorry," she stammered quickly, trying to see the damage she'd done. He held up a placating hand and groaned, testing the limited range of motion his expression did have. "I'm sorry, I just wanted this to be over and… oh dammit, I'm sorry." Even if she had been angry at him, she hadn't wanted to hurt him; it had all been a gut reaction, and, in the heat of the moment, she hadn't even realized what she was doing. But she had never meant to hurt him. She sagged dejectedly and continued swearing at herself in reproach.

For a moment, Garrus just looked at her, forgetting about the blood pooling on his fingers, and sighed. She was right. It wasn't his problem, it was hers; she had lived through it, and it was her decision how she wanted to handle it. He didn't have to like it, but that didn't make it any less true; it was her choice and he would stand by his mate, no matter how much it upset him. "Shepard, it's fine," he said, though it was muffled by his hand. "I don't like it, but I can't change it. And, since they're already dead, I guess it'll have to do. I just… I don't like the idea that those bastards got away with it." Shepard shook her head, but didn't stop him and he continued, "But you're right. You're always right. It's done."

Shepard relaxed visibly and finally smiled. "Thank you," she breathed, and it struck him how heartfelt the two little words were. "Come on, we're not going to find Kai Leng now. And you need to see the Doc."

Garrus chuckled quietly and examined the blue blood on his fingers. "I guess so. How's your head?"

She grinned impishly and shrugged. "Fine. I guess all that plating doesn't make you so tough after all, huh?"

"Hey, it's not my fault you're part krogan," he quipped back as they walked back toward where Liara was waiting. The asari smiled at their approach and it seemed like finally everything was as it should have been.

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**I hope you guys like this! Now for the good (or sad, depending on your mindset) part: after this, there will one last chapter-an epilogue-before this story will be finished.**


	7. Epilogue

**Huzzah! After weeks of planning and gentle coercion from my LOVELY beta, I have finally finished this epilogue! Yay! I apologize for how long this took, but I was never really in the right mindset for this story until this week. But alas, it is done!**

**As usual, Greenyoda987 is fabulous and wonderful and great and all of the bestest compliments I can ever give her for being the best beta/editor ever.**

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This… This was it? The Crucible was... Shepard tried to tighten her grip on the pistol still held limply in her hand but every fiber of her being screamed in protest. Damn it. Months of nightmares, of watching that child die over and over again, and now he stood there, blankly telling her that she had a choice to make: destroy the Reapers or control them.

"So the Illusive Man was right…" She wasn't sorry for shooting him but there it was. He had been right all along.

"Yes, but he could not have controlled us," the star child informed her politely, "But you can."

Of course she could. She was Commander Mother-Fucking Shepard; apparently, that meant she could do anything. Anything except survive. No matter what she chose, she was sure she would die. Hell, she felt like she would collapse at any second and that would be the end. Anderson was right; it felt like years since she'd had a chance to just sit down and rest…_ No, see this through._

So what could she do? If she took control of the Reapers… Finally, everything was under her control… Finally… She wasn't one to just destroy her problems, anyway. There was always a better option. She could just take the reins and turn the Reapers away, keep them far away from the galaxy she'd sworn she would give anything to protect.

_Anything? Even your conscience?_

How could she live with herself if the Reapers kept on living—if that was even what they did—after they had destroyed so much? Palaven, Thessia… Earth. They had already killed and harvested so many… How could she let them continue to exist after that? And Anderson… God, what would he say if he could see her even considering it? Would she really just turn around and become the Illusive Man? The thought made her sick to her stomach and it took almost all of her remaining energy to steel herself. Could she really just turn around and change after spending months—years, even—trying to stop the Reapers? She had _died_ trying to stop them… Could she really let them live?

_They're just machines, after all… They aren't really alive, not like organics._

And EDI? Legion? A pang of guilt struck her and she found herself regretting her choice to spare the quarians. Yes, she loved Tali like a sister she didn't have, but sacrificing one for the other seemed so… hollow. There was no victory, no matter which way she had chosen, but knowing that Legion had trusted her to save him, to save his people, and she had turned her back made her wonder if she could really do it again; could she really choose to destroy an entire race when they were put at her mercy?

But what if the Reapers _couldn't _be controlled… Who was to say they couldn't break free? Or indoctrinate her as they had everyone who had tried to control them before her? This star child? No, she couldn't listen to… it. It was the one driving the Reapers, ordering them to harvest.

But what if she did destroy the Reapers? Not just the Reapers… No… All advanced technology: AI, VI, cybernetics… What would happen? How many people were kept alive by those technologies? Could she really kill them all just to end the Reaper threat?

Could she really take control—take choice—away from people? Even the Reapers? She'd had control taken from her; it was a feeling she would never wish on anyone, even her worst enemies. Death was better than losing control…

She staggered forward, her feet dragging lethargically as she hauled her mangled, screaming body toward the Catalyst. Her decision would be flawed, no matter what she chose; there were too many variables, too many factors, yet something needed to be done. The Reapers couldn't be left to keep destroying everything, not when there were still so many left fighting them. It wasn't perfect, but it was the best choice she could make and right then, it was all she had; all she could do was decide for herself and no one else.

The Reapers needed to end so life could continue.

Her pistol recoiled violently, making pain shoot up her arm like searing fire, as the bullets chipped into the glass core of the Crucible. _Just a bit more, just a bit further_, she urged her body, forcing one foot in front of the other; she desperately tried to ignore the piercing pain in her chest, the all-over ache of her broken body. She could feel fractured ribs stabbing into her lungs, her heart, as her cybernetics tried to reknit the injured tissue, but it wouldn't help. This was going to be it. Good. Then she would take the Reapers down with her. She willed the last of her strength into her body, forcing her steps to be stronger, faster, as she kept her eyes locked on her target.

The glass exploded with a puff of fire and smoke, making her stagger as it surged toward her and enveloped her in its cleansing warmth.

_Finally…_

She didn't see the pulse of energy the Crucible released, didn't see the star child watch as its purpose was taken away, didn't see the Reapers fall from the sky. But everyone else did, staring in awe as their indomitable foe fell, lifeless before them, and they cheered.

All but Garrus. He stood on the _Normandy_'s bridge, hand tight on Joker's shoulder. "She's not coming out, Jeff," he said quietly, throat tight. "We have to get out of here." Garrus's heart was shattering as Joker shook his head; his gut – his heart – told him not to leave. He couldn't imagine leaving her side – not again, not when she needed him most of all. But, she'd asked. She'd asked him to keep her crew safe. If he could do anything for her, he would do it; and if that meant keeping her crew – her family – safe while she was left alone… if that was the last thing he could do for her, he'd do it. It would be what she would want. He knew that. She never thought of herself – when it came to this war, to her past, to her own safety – she only thought of the people she could save; that was one of the reasons he loved her. And he'd do whatever he could to be the person she fell in love with, the only person she trusted enough to make the hardest decision.

Joker's hands continued to fly over the controls, trying to keep the _Normandy_ close to the Citadel, to the place they knew their Commander would be, saving the galaxy. "No, she'll make it, she…"

Garrus met his eyes sadly, mandibles tight to his face. They both knew it was a false hope. Shepard had done what she had set out to do; it was the end. The Reapers were defeated; and Garrus had lost the person he'd cared most for, the person he'd do anything for. All he could do now, was try to be as strong as she'd always been.

"Damn it…"

Joker spun the _Normandy_ and forced the ship's drive core as hard as he dared. Sensors began beeping in alarm and he cursed. Something was gaining on them, and fast. Just a little faster, just a little more…

There was a flash and they were overtaken, the _Normandy_ spiraling as a wave of energy—unprecedented in its strength and magnitude—washed over the ship, sending her careening off course. Joker turned toward EDI, ready to bark some urgent order, or check how the ship was holding, but she was slumped forward, the perpetually glowing visor across her eyes dim, and his mouth went dry. No, no, no… Not EDI. A loud bang and a particularly violent lurch of the ship reclaimed his attention and he forced himself to look away, back to the console and blinking warnings in front of him. One thing at a time.

* * *

The reconstruction effort was slow and ponderous as Reaper carcasses were dragged away, out of cities and streets for study, and the battlegrounds were searched for those missing or killed. So many were dead… Garrus forced himself to look away from the line of bodies that had been recovered and arranged for identification back at the Forward Operations Base, now serving as the command center for the rebuilding effort. All of the dead… They looked so young, so fragile… Had it been worth it? He forced his eyes down the street, finding the hunched forms of the _Normandy_ crew as they helped lift rubble and clear paths for the smaller vehicles carrying doctors and search parties.

They had been lucky, in a way. The ship had survived her tumultuous journey away from the Citadel with only minor damage and limped its way back past the Sol Relay, but… The real loss had been EDI. The AI they had come to rely so heavily on both as a resource and a friend was gone, and Joker's sorrow had turned inward. Garrus knew how it felt to lose the only person who knew him as truly as he knew himself…

But there they were, searching the ruins of London for survivors or remains; there was too much of the latter and not enough of the former. It surprised him that none of the other nonhuman crew had bristled at being brought back to Earth rather than their own homeworlds, yet there they all were. After days of living on minimal rations, of trying to make everything last until they could get back to civilization, they had made it back to Earth a few pounds lighter, but alive. It wasn't home, but it would have to do for the time being. He knew he couldn't go back to Palaven, not yet… Not until he found her, found proof that it was over… That she was really gone. His body moved without his brain's orders, navigating the streets and rubble blindly and without seeing. Somewhere out there, the only person he had ever loved more than life itself was lying, cold and broken and a hero. Somewhere among the crumbling remains of the Citadel, among the shattered body of the station that had housed a government so skeptical of the threat that had nearly destroyed them… Somewhere far away from him…

They had conquered so much… Not just the war—the Reapers, Cerberus—but within themselves. Shepard's past, his own uncertainties… They seemed so far away now, so small and distant… Yes, they had been shaped in the fires of conflict and pain, but it was behind them. To have overcome all of that… for nothing… Garrus's heart ached; more than anything, he had wanted to spend what remained of his life proving that his mate—the woman he adored—was important, that she was so much more than nothing… He had never thought that the time they had would be so short… Being without her… Even the thought of it hurt him.

Someone was shouting—he could hear the excitement in the man's voice as it drew nearer—and more people raised their voices, following excitedly and Garrus finally turned his attention to what was being said.

"We found her!" people shouted over and over, rushing across the barren, scarred cityscape toward the source of the first shouts and Garrus found himself following. Found who, he kept wondering as he clambered across the fractured slabs of concrete; confusion gnawed at him and he started running toward the growing throng of people. Found who? Who could be so important? Who would these people care so much about to find?

He forced his way through the crowd, drawing nearer and nearer to the pile of rubble and shale. A man crouched at the foot of the monolith, his omnitool aglow as he chattered into it and continued to scan the debris.

"She's alive. I can't believe we found her. Someone call the Admiral, he'll want to know right away!"

"Who?" Garrus finally forced out, his voice hoarse from the tightness he'd felt in his throat since Shepard had turned away from him and run for the Citadel beam. She'd said she would love him, that she always would. Yes, he was sure that even in death, even looking down on him, she loved him. But he had hoped to be able to love her as well, to prove it to her, to show her every day. He had hoped they would grow old together, that they could retire and enjoy the peace they had earned, that they could finally be free of the demons they have overcome… The man started, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"General Vakarian, sir, we—"

But Garrus didn't hear—when his title was used, he never heard—and turned his eyes toward the pile. They found her? Who was she? Instead of listening, he stepped past the man. There was only one person he cared to find, and she was dead. She had to be, or else she would have contacted him already. Right? It had been days, a week at least, since the Reapers had fallen from the sky, yet no one had heard from Shepard. It couldn't be…

"…but she's alive. It's a miracle, sir."

Garrus knelt, prying rocks and rubble loose with his talons and tossing them aside. He didn't care where they landed, didn't care if people had to jump out of the way to avoid the sudden projectiles. He had to know… He had to know who it was. If there was even a chance…

* * *

Something sat heavily on her chest in a way that made every inch of her bones ache, but in that second of awareness, it struck Shepard that she was somehow alive. Weak, broken, and bleeding…But somehow very much alive. Alive and at the bottom of a pile of rubble. She tried to move, to lift an arm—a hand, a finger—but the weight of the stones and grit that held her down as too much. Every inch of her hurt, yet it was a pain that she would tolerate so long as it meant that she was alive. She blinked, grateful for the mere inches of space around her face, and took a shallow, shaky breath. A stabbing pain shot through her ribs, but the hot, dusty air entered her lungs and sent a wave of relief to the burning, suffocating tissue. How long had she been under this pile before she had regained consciousness? How long had it been since she had activated the Crucible?

In the tiny space, there was nothing she could do but think. Sure, she could pray that someone found her, or hope that her blood stayed in her body long enough to survive, but she was beyond wishing for more life. She had died once already, and it was past her time to go. Let someone else live in the spotlight, let someone else solve the galaxy's perpetual problems, let someone else live… She had lived a dozen lifetimes in a few short years. It was time for her to rest. Perhaps she would suffocate—she couldn't tell if there was any way for more air to reach her—or bleed out… After everything she had survived, everything she had endured, she decided she had lived long enough.

It was oddly peaceful—silent and undisturbed—in her small crevice, buried beneath the remains of the Citadel and for the first time since she had been thrown headlong into Spectre-ship, she was calm. She was only minutely aware of the disjointed position of her body—one leg at an odd angle, yet numb and unpained despite what she knew was a break, an arm stuck beneath her back awkwardly and the other pinned beneath a slab—instead focusing on the pitch dark before her. There was no galaxy to save, no threat to stop… No past to live in fear of. It was over. All of it. She had outlasted every trial, every nightmare, that had followed her from the very beginning, that had plagued her for as long as she could remember.

She had overcome.

And now she could die.

And she was not afraid. She was not angry, or upset. Sad, yes—she would leave behind the only family she had ever known, the only people she had ever loved more than anything else, the only person who had loved her not for what she had done or accomplished, but for who she was—but they would be happy and safe. That was all she could hope for, in the end. It would have to be enough.

_We did it, Anderson,_ she thought as an exhaustion as eternal and deep as her own blood and being, started to seep into her body, _We finally did it, sir._ She closed her eyes, basking again in the silence for the hundredth time in what was probably days since she had awakened, and let a smile spread across her face.

Sound broke in and her eyes flew open. That was impossible… She hadn't heard anything for days, yet there it was. Faint, but she did not miss it. Vaguely, she recognized it as the scrape of boots on gravel and stone and strained to hear more. Someone—or multiple someones—was walking, just beyond her crumbling tomb. She wasn't alone?

_No child, you did it. _You_ did it. Go. You'll see me, but not now._

Anderson. She could almost hear him, calm and comforting, and tears pricked hotly at her eyes. Not now. But someday.

She forced a deep breath down, ignoring the weight threatening to crush her chest, and forced all of her remaining strength into a shout.

"Help!"

It was little more than a rasp, a grinding, hoarse sound that she was sure would never penetrate the layers of rubble above her, yet the scraping stopped. Her heart sped up, sending a pulsing ache through her chest with each beat, but she ignored the pain. Had they heard her? She licked her dry lips, swallowed, and tried again.

"Help!"

Now the sound was louder, a ragged call that echoed in her stone prison. It was strange to hear the plea coming from her own voice, a cry that had been forced back down her own throat when it had mattered. But now it rang in the small space, breaking the silence. She could hear voices raise, the words lost to her, but the urgency was plain enough; someone had heard her. Would they call for help? Would they dig her out? She could hear rocks and rubble moving, could feel the debris above her shifting. The shouts grew louder and nearer, sending a thrill of hope through her that she had tried to avoid since she had set foot on the Citadel one final time. But now she had hope; hope she had one more chance, hope she could see the people she had fought for, hope she could see _him_ again… Light filtered in through growing gaps in the rubble and she squinted against the sudden brightness.

The slab that she had stared at for days was finally lifted, blinding her and assaulting her with a cacophony of grinding, shouting, and noise. Her ears rang and she tried to speak, to ask where she was, where her crew was, but it came out as a hacking cough, blood painting her tongue as her ribs dug painfully into her lungs again. Dust filled her nose and mouth, leaving her with the taste of copper and grit.

"She's alive!"

* * *

Garrus's hands moved faster and faster as more of the rubble fell away. The N7 insignia, barely recognizable under the soot and dirt, was the first thing he recognized; her chest heaved as she coughed violently drawing his attention to it. His eyes flew to her face, wide and disbelieving. The tissue around her left eye was blackened and swollen, and shallow cuts and bruises decorated much of her face, but he knew—he knew in his bones—that it was Shepard. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth as she tipped her head back again, blinking in the sunlight. Grit and dust coated her hair and he tentatively reached out to brush it off, but his hand came away red. Oh Spirits…

She smiled weakly at him after her eyes had adjusted and the spots had cleared, her lips shaking as more marines sought about carefully uncovering her and he could see just how much pain she was in. "No Shepard without Vakarian, remember?" she finally whispered, trying to lift her hand to touch him.

Elation surged through him and he cradled her face in one of his hands, his mouth opening and closing lamely as words failed him. He had never expected… Spirits, he had just assumed that she was gone… How could he doubt her? After everything she had overcome, everything she had fought against all these years, nothing had ever defeated her – defeated her spirit, her will. There was nothing she couldn't overcome, and Spirits, he'd never appreciated her stubbornness to never give up more than he did now. "Shepard…" he finally managed.

Tears were sliding down her face now, out of pain, happiness, or both he couldn't tell, and she managed a small nod. "Get me out of here," she rasped, not looking down at her body. She knew it was bad, she could _feel_ it, but she didn't want to see. "Please."

He lifted her as carefully as he could, mumbling a stream of apologies with each pained contortion of her face. Blood painted whatever skin had been left exposed and he didn't need to be an expert to know that her leg wasn't supposed to bend like that. He could see where her armor had melted and fused to her skin, pulling and tearing it open with every flex of her weakened muscles; it hurt him to see her in pain, but above it all, he was overjoyed that she was alive, that she had come back to him.

"It's alright, Kai. You'll make it, we'll get you fixed up, I promise," he whispered, her head tucked beneath his chin. He could feel the wetness of her blood on her scalp and sped up his stride. "Stay with me," he added urgently when he saw her eyes flutter closed, "Stay with me. We made it this far, and I'll be damned if you leave me now." He couldn't help his small smile, mandibles fluttering. "And we still need to see that turian-human baby."

That made her smile, a small, breathy laugh escaping her before she winced. "I'm not going anywhere," she finally replied as he crested a pile of shattered concrete. A couple jogged steps jostled her aching ribs and she grimaced. "You're stuck with me whether you like it or not."

Now he chuckled, a low sound in his chest that sent familiar, comforting vibrations through her body. "I wouldn't want it any other way." He could see the FOB looming ahead of them and the swarms of people milling about—no doubt they head heard the news—and shouted for someone to call a medic. Shepard let her forehead lean against his carapace as he carried her, almost running now, as her consciousness threatened to slip away from her. In and out, falling under and then breaking the surface again, she tried to keep a grip on her thoughts as more and more people approached, yelling urgently and barking commands.

No one could tell her she was nothing now. She had beaten death twice and saved a galaxy that had fought her every step of the way. She was a hero. And not just any hero, but the hero that would never be forgotten. _I'm Commander Shepard, and I became more than anyone ever expected. I proved them wrong. I'm better than my past._ A thrill of satisfaction ran through her at that thought; an orphan from a decimated colony, a failed soldier that lost an entire unit, a nothing… And now a hero.

She felt Garrus tighten his arms around her and growl something at someone who had tried to touch her. _I am loved, far more than I deserve._ She sank deeper into his hold, the safety of his arms wrapped around her reminding her that she didn't have to do everything alone, that she had someone to watch her, to protect her; she felt her weariness fall over her again, threatening to drag her back into sleep as he pulled her closer, the thrumming of his heart a steady beat reminding her he was there. She was there.

_I'm miraculously alive._

Garrus could feel her beginning to sag in his arms as he finally reached the medical pavilion—it was a rough structure, set up against the side of a crumbling building with little more than rows of gurneys and whatever medical equipment was salvaged from the remaining ships from Hammer and Sword—and carefully laid her on the nearest empty bed. Doctors swooped down on them, sliding an oxygen mask over Shepard's face and hooking an IV up to one of her arms before either of them could say anything. They needed to help her, and he needed to be out of their way so he made as if to leave, to give them space, but something grabbed his hand and he looked down. With what little strength she had, Shepard had lurched forward and snatched his hand in a vice grip that he never would have thought she could manage. He could see the mask over her nose and mouth cloud as she panted, betraying just how much she had exerted herself to complete the simple task, and moved back to stand beside her.

"No more secrets," she whispered, settling back again, "We always stay together."

He looked to the attending doctor and thanked any deities that would listen that it was Doctor Chakwas who stared back at him. Her eyes were shadowed and tired—no doubt she had been tending to wounded since they had landed—but she nodded, a small, wistful smile on her face. She would never be the one to part them, not when she knew what they had been through, what they had put up with and suffered to be with each other. She knew just how far they had come, how hard it had been for Shepard, and she could never separate her from the one person who had been able to help her move past it. He would stay.

"Always."

* * *

The weeks of recovery had been long, painful, and frustrating. Without her cybernetics and much of the advanced technology that medicine had come to rely on, Shepard was left to heal the old fashioned way: slowly. Her ribs still ached if she laughed too hard or twisted and much of the skin on her arms and torso was still growing back and healing. The cast around her leg was an annoyance and a curse, but a necessary evil that covered from her toes all the way to the top of her thigh. Her hair had begun to grow back after it had been shaved to repair the lacerations to her scalp and ensure nothing had damaged her skull, but it was barely short black fuzz. Her bruises had faded and the smaller cuts had healed, leaving thin scars in their wake. For the millionth time, she plotted how she might get out of bed and escape to the sunlight outside the window.

"Don't even think about it."

Shepard turned her attention to the source of the quiet reprimand and gave Garrus a cheeky grin. He huffed out a sigh, regarding her over the datapad he had been reading, but didn't move; his talons tapped against the side of his foot, ankle resting on the top of his opposite knee. He knew Shepard was restless, but he also knew the second he gave in and let her out of bed, she would injure herself further and extend her time of healing.

"Please, Garrus? I've been in this bed for weeks. I just want to go outside, just for a minute," she pleaded, batting her eyes at him. He snorted and she gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine. I'll just die of boredom, you hear me?!" She flopped back onto her pillows as hard as she dared and crossed her arms. Bandages still covered from her wrists up to her biceps, hidden under the long sleeves of her civilian clothes.

"No one's going to die, Lola."

Shepard's expression brightened visibly and Garrus looked up to the door. "James! Come to spring me from prison?" she asked hopefully, shooting Garrus a playful glance but he merely rolled his eyes. After weeks of helping Shepard heal, forcing her to do her physical therapy—and properly!—and being her strength when she had none left, he knew all of her tricks, and that all of her complaints were half-hearted.

"Sorry, Lola, but you're still on bed rest until Doc says so," the big marine replied, pulling up the remaining chair in the room. The hospital room was as inviting as it could be. Though Shepard could have moved elsewhere days ago, there really wasn't anywhere else she _could _go; the planet was still being rebuilt and the _Normandy_ was the only home she'd ever known.

"How's the _Normandy_?" she finally asked, accepting the bundle of datapads from him—messages from her remaining crew—with a nod.

"As good as she can be. Joker's still... well, you know," James said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, "But it's fine. Hackett's got us running messages between all the heads of state to get something organized. Tevos stepped down after… Well, you know. And all the racial leaders are skeptical about another Council after the mess those _pendejos_ got themselves into."

"Of course they are," she grumbled, eyes skimming the first message—it was from Tali. "So nothing's getting done."

"For now. They're still pushing for you to pick the next one and chair it, but Hackett shot that down pretty fast." He paused for a moment before continuing, "You really quitting?"

"I'm not quitting, James," she sighed, "I'm retiring. I've done more than my fair share; for the Alliance, and for the rest of the galaxy." She smiled and gave his over-sized shoulder a gentle shove. "Besides, it's your turn to give 'em hell."

"Yeah, I get to clean up your mess!" he complained, but he was smiling too. "Rest up, Commander."

"You're not supposed to call me that anymore, James," she scolded, reminded of the fateful day the Reapers had invaded. God, it seemed so long ago…

"Not supposed to salute you either," he replied, snapping a quick salute. "Take care of her, Garrus."

James was gone before Garrus answered, but he still did. "For the rest of my life."

Shepard smiled and leaned forward to take his hand, but the motion made her grimace and flinch when her ribs throbbed. He scooted closer and threaded his fingers with hers, eyes locked on her face as she settled back again. She was thin and pale—side effects of bed rest and broken ribs, the doctor said—but she was still his, still beautiful.

"Are you sure about this?" he finally asked. He asked it every day, always wondering why this amazing woman—the savior of the galaxy and torturer of doctors—would still want him. When they had thought it would be their final days, he had no doubt of their bond, but now… Now she could have anyone she chose, anyone who struck her fancy… When she smiled at him, his heart sped up and he found himself leaning toward her.

"Of course I am, Garrus," she chuckled, like she always did. "When I agreed that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, I meant it. It doesn't matter if that life is years, weeks, or minutes; I want it to be with you."

It was the answer she always gave to the question he always asked, but it still comforted him. And in his heart, he knew it would always be true, but it was his brain that always had its doubts. But until the day she decided differently—if it ever came—he would stay by her side: her lover, her friend, and—at times like this—her jailer.

"Although it would be _lovely_ if it could be spent outside of a hospital…?" she tried again, biting her lip and tilting her head slightly. He regretted having confessed what that look did to his insides as they melted for the tenth time in as many days, but stood firm.

"Kailynn…" he warned, grip on her hands tightening.

"Fine, fine, fine," she grumbled, pretending to pout before shooting him a sly smile.

This Shepard, so carefree and playful… He knew this was who she was. Yes, he had fallen for the strong, capable Commander, but it was the woman—the vulnerable, uninhibited Shepard—that he knew he loved. This was the person she had been before… Before. But now, with the galaxy safe, and her work done, she had finally let it all go. Her command was finished, her Spectre-status terminated with the Council either dead or resigned… She had done what she had set out to do, and now she could finally relax and be a _person_. He reached up and traced a finger down her cheek and she leaned into the caress.

"I love you, you know," she said quietly, eyes closed. He could feel her breath brushing against the skin of his wrist, just between his plates and rose from his chair to lean over her. She tilted her face up to him, her eyes opening to meet his, and smiled.

"I love you too," he purred back, lightly bumping his forehead against hers. "But you're not going outside."

"Aw, Garrus!"

He chuckled and ducked in for a quick kiss before returning to his seat. He would gladly spend the rest of his life like this, and he was sure he would be the happiest turian alive.

* * *

**Let me know what you guys think. I'm really happy to have finished my first multi-chapter fic, and a huge thank you to everyone who followed, favorited, or reviewed at any time. Seriously, this is a huge accomplishment for me and I'm so thankful for all the feedback I've gotten.**


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